


Scion: Winter Is Coming

by Syreene



Category: Role-Playing Games, Scion (Tabletop RPG)
Genre: Other, Ragnarok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 65,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3340097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syreene/pseuds/Syreene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The scions of Tyr, Heimdall, Hatchiman and Dionysus walk into a diner... and before the night is over they'll discover that winter is indeed coming... with Ragnarok not far behind unless they can work together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A funny thing happened on the way to the Forum...

It always starts with something small.

Well, that's pretty much bullshit. Truth is, we – the gods of old, the gods mankind thought they'd outgrown and discarded – have always been fighting an uphill battle. I rather sympathize with that Sisyphus fellow that's still pushing his rock up the damned hill. Mankind has advanced, and they've done some truly amazing things, some of which has come on the backs of some truly horrible things. War. Nuclear weapons. Laws, just and unjust. Stupidity that makes the caprice of the gods seem harmless.

History is nothing but the opening act for the End of All Things.

"Hey, Marcone! How's that foundation break-down going?"

"Slow," Marcone frowned. "Unless you wanna pick up a spare jackhammer and pitch in."

"Hey, no, I'm having enough fun with this brick-and-rebar FUBAR."

Marcone spat into the dirt. "What was this place, a bank?"

"Office building for some rich guy. World War II type, died last year," his co-worker said.

Marcone looked around the work site. What should have been a routine knock-down of an old building had been complicated by reinforced construction. "Yeah, I suppose all this built-to-last stuff makes sense, then. Probably thought the Commies were gonna parachute in and take the place over."

"Vegas? Lots of glitz, but who in their right mind would want this hell hole?"

"Gotta keep your gold bars somewhere," his co-worker laughed.

"Yeah, I find any gold bars, I ain't sharing," Marcone said. He worked the pedal sink and splashed some water on his face. "Round Two."

More rebar-laced concrete. And then Marcone caught a glint of something … metallic? Perhaps the old man had a hidden safe, after all. He set his jackhammer aside, picked away a few chunks of concrete to reveal a corner of something. It looked more like a stone box … waitaminit, didn't they use stone liners at cemeteries? Was this something bizarre like out of Psycho ? An ex-wife buried in the basement?

"Hey, Pete, can you come down here? Found something odd," Marcone radioed the site supervisor.

"What now?" Pete Connors asked a moment later. "Steel plating under the floor? Unexploded munitions?"

Marcone just pointed to the corner of glossy black stone he'd uncovered. "Hammer ain't doin' nothing to it, but I didn't want to go any further without your go-ahead."

"It's not slate. Even obsidian would break under a jackhammer," Connors mused. "And what's that, an inscription?"

"Saw it on History Channel, runes. Viking stuff."

"Great. An archaeological find in the middle of a tear-down that's already overbudget in cost and time," Connors shook his head. "Okay, not ready to send you home. Go work on the corner or something. If you find anything else, call."

"Dr. Fisk?" the student assistant asked. "Call on 2041."

"Who from?" Fisk asked, not looking up from the photographs he was studying.

"Max Bayer over at City Hall," the young woman said. "Said it was important."

"It always is," Fisk shook his head. He waved at the papers spread out before him, dashing off cryptic scribbles on Post-Its and sticking them to pages. "Would you take notes, Miss Warburton? I don't want to lose track any more than I already have."

"Sure thing," she said brightly. Callie Warburton was a graduate assistant this close to her own Master's, and if hadn't been for Fisk's mentoring, she'd have been just another cocktail waitress with a major in schlepping drinks, a minor in getting groped, and zero prospects.

"Max, what can I do for you?" Fisk asked.

"Usual. Construction worker turned up something. Stone marker, possibly a sarcophagus."

"Sarcophagus? In the middle of Vegas?"

"It's the old Roget building, at the end of South Bridge and South Vegas," Bayer said. "Part of the teardown for the next big casino."

"Roget. Didn't he file suit against a couple of developers back in the 90's?"

"He did. But he kicked the bucket last year, no heirs. City Council expedited things, property turned over, and the Roget building is history."

"Except for the possible artifact in the basement," Carlton sighed. "Look, I can't get out there until tomorrow. Soon enough?"

Bayer shrugged. "It'll have to do. Lord, please not another Indian burial ground. The City Council will go apoplectic. Call me when you have something."

"Dr. Fisk? Do you want me to handle that tomorrow morning?" Callie asked after the call ended.

"That would be capital," Fisk allowed. He was already mumbling to himself, tracing fingers between the Post-It notes and trying to regain his train of thought. "Standard site survey, please, Miss Warburton."

"If you'll not be needing me, Dr. Fisk, I could head out there now, take a preliminary look?"

Fisk looked at her over his glasses. "It's getting dark."

"It's never dark in Vegas, Dr. Fisk," Callie smiled reassuringly. "I'll have the Frezzi kit with me."

"You gotta wear this," the security guard at the gate handed Callie a hard hat. She was already wearing a day glo safety vest, her camera slung around her neck. "And sign in."

A hastily-scribbled C. Warburton later, Callie was examining the corner that had been uncovered. The rock was smooth and cold, with striations and mottling that looked like meteoric iron. A hint of Nordic runes, but that didn't mean it was Viking in origin. Anyone could carve runes. Maybe Old Man Roget had been a closet Odin-worshiper.

Photos. Measurements. Some simple tests to establish the material. Whatever this was, it was big.

And this was how it always started, with something small.

"Come on, Hitoshi... the night is young!" Lya calls out to her friend walking a few steps in front of her on the sidewalk as she raises her walking stick and flask to the sky and spins around before stopping and taking a sip. "You sure you don't want any?" she scoots up behind her diligent friend and puts her hand holding the flask on his shoulder before mock whispering "This is a special batch of tsipouro you know...made by the monks of Mount Athos! I figured I'd ask before we got to the party... I don't exactly have enough for everybody!" She chuckles to herself. "I suppose I could ask him... but nah...better save the family favors for the serious stuff."

Hitoshi shakes his head. "No thank you Lya, I might have something later." That usually meant he wasn't planning on drinking tonight, or if he did drink, it would be alone. He rarely drank in public. "You go ahead and have all the fun you want. I'll be around if you need me." A drop of wetness hits his forehead and he looks up with a frown. "I think it's about to rain." sure enough, seconds later the sky opens up and a light rain begins to fall. "Well Shit."

"Talk about putting a damper on things," Lya mutters as she pulls her long coat tighter around her. "Good thing it's not an outdoor venue, eh?" She pushes her wet locks out of her face and looks up to the darkening clouds as a chill runs down her spine. "You know we could always be fashionably late and see if this storm blows over...how about we catch some grub, Hitoshi?" she hurries up to his side and gestures at the welcoming glow of a diner's "Open" sign down the street. "They've got some great pie there... I remember eating there once with the girls after this amazing after-party when we played the HAZE...or maybe I'm just hazy, huh? Get it?" she laughs as she grabs his arm and walks quicker towards the diner.

Hitoshi nods solemnly. "yes, I know. In fact I distinctly remember the last time you dragged me here... drunk... off your rear. I also remembering you eating a whole apple pie that same night and then puking on my shoes while I held your hair back. Such a waste of pie." He shakes his head trying to hide his grin while he gives his friend a good ribbing.

"Well at least I know I remembered right," she chuckles as they enter the diner. Lya waves her hand in greeting to the waitress behind the counter who nods at them as they take a seat in a booth by the window. "Though this time I think I'll go for cherry, and you'll have to have some with me. Wouldn't want me eating a whole one by myself again, would you?" she winks. "Two slices of cherry pie, a cup of coffee and a hot tea for my friend here, Marie," Lya says with a friendly smile to the waitress as she catches her eye. "Oh and a paper if you guys have one?"

"Looking for reviews of your latest performance?" Hitoshi asks curiously as he subtly scans the other inhabitants of the diner.

"Nah...it's just...I've got an odd feeling, is all... and no, it's not the tsipouro before you say anything," she laughs weakly as she gazes out the window at the rain.

Inside the diner, Evie Cartwright sits in one of the back booths, pouring over pages of scribbled notes. One hand flips through the papers, shifting each around as she eyes data there, trying to make a connection in this seemingly random case. The other hand holds a delectably sweet doughnut, all soft and warm with bits of blueberry suspended in the middle.

Cops and donuts? Yeah, it may be cliché. But, screw that. Donuts are delicious.

She sighs and sets the food down, leaning back in her seat. Both hands lift to her face, rubbing her eyes before moving on to run through her short, brown pixie cut, ruffling her already messy locks into an even more impressive array of cowlicks. None of this makes sense, she thinks. But, I know there is a connection here. I can feel it. I just need to prove it...

The front door chimes happily as another customer walks in and Evie looks up to see the couple stride in out of the rain. Her brows furrow and it takes her a minute, but she places Lya's face after a few moments. It's the singer that her brother is rather fond of. He had insisted on taking her out to a concert not too long ago, convinced that she needed to relax a bit. Evie smiles at the memory, but is then distracted as the theme from Pirates of the Caribbean begins to emanate from her pants. She quickly answers her phone, saying softly, "Cartwright. Whatcha got?"

The waitress sets down to slices of warm pie on the table between them and pours their drinks before handing Lya a copy of the morning's paper. "Let me know if you need anything else, hon... doesn't look like it's going to be too busy tonight with the rain and all." She winks and walks back behind the counter where she starts filling napkin dispensers.

Lya moans around a mouthful of pie as she leans back in her seat. "The tourists don't know what they're missing, Maggie!" she says loudly before setting down her fork and taking a sip of her coffee. She misses the saucer when she sets it down and splashes a little onto the newspaper.

"Aw crap..." she grabs a napkin and starts blotting it before she notices the small article underneath the stain about the building of a new casino where the Roget building used to stand.

"Now see, this is what I'm talking about Hitoshi..." she says to her friend as she points at the article and pushes it across the table towards him. "It's like we're constantly sacrificing our history...our...sense of self... for the next big thing."

Hitoshi sips his tea and sets it down on the table. "Didn't you run away from your history in order to make a fresh start?"

"What little of it I knew, anyway... which I think was part of the problem, honestly." She picks up her fork and starts playing with another bite of pie on her plate. "If I'd known where I came from from the start, maybe things would've been different."

"Ahh... but then we may never have met, Lya-san. And do you not know your history now? Enjoy your pie, my friend... things have a way of working themselves out." Hitoshi smiles knowingly and returns to his tea.

"Yeah... I guess you're right... no sense letting the pie get cold."

Hitoshi takes a bite of his pie. "Okay, this IS really good Pie. Remind me to buy a whole one to take home to mom." He snags the paper and looks at the article she is pointing at. "hmm... the city is like the layers of this pie. Each section built on that below it, but all is part of a greater whole."

"I think it's more like we keep making the pie and forget to clean the pan," Lya jokes as she scrapes up the last piece of pie from the plate. "Not yours, Maggie..." she calls out as the waitress raises a disapproving eyebrow. "Yours is delicious and would go fantastic with a nice 2007 North Slope Pinot Gris. I'm talking about more the..." she waves her fork about, " universal pie."

Would counsel like to poll the jurors?" asked the judge.

"Very well. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this completes your service …"

"Mr. North, I … I owe you, man," said Glenn Vernon. "Thanks. I know that don't cover it at all, but thanks."

"Don't worry about it, Mr. Vernon," Alex North told his client. "That's my job."

"Come join my family at church on Sunday. North Vegas Baptist," Vernon said.

"My relationship with God is … complicated," Alex smiled.

"God can be like that," Vernon said sagely. "He's a strict father that you may not understand. You may not feel close to Him, but He still cares about you."

Alex thought back to the handful of times he'd spoken with his father. His real father: Tyr, the Norse God of War. Their relationship was formal and absent familiarity, a superior officer to a subordinate. An occasional bit of praise, but often on the tails of a personal challenge or demanding trial. His chopper getting shot down in Afghanistan. A highly-charged rape case at Torii Army Base. An officer-involved shooting in New York.

"I'm not sure I could handle a closer relationship," he smiled.

"He'll be there for you, just as He made sure you were there for me. Thank you, again."

Alex checked his phone as he left the courtroom. There was the usual assortment of missed calls and messages, clients looking for his services. The fact that he was an independent with a growing reputation for championing those who were caught in the cogs of the wheels of justice attracted all sorts, from repeat offenders looking to avoid a third 'strike' to progressive political groups.

"Nice work, Alex," said a colleague from the District Attorney's office. "If I ever wind up in a pinch, I want you on my side."

"A lineup is usually pretty solid," Alex admitted. "But I had a gut feeling my client didn't do it."

Alex knew his 'gut feeling' was a legacy from his divine parent, but it was his skill at investigation that made it worth anything in the modern era. Men didn't take each other at their word any more.

"The Boss threw your name onto the table the other day as a possible ADA. You've got the chops. Experience, high-profile cases."

"Not sure the boys in blue would be as enthusiastic," Alex said.

"Because you stuck NYPD for a wrongful death claim? It'd actually look good. Show the D.A. takes things seriously."

"Just in time for election season?"

His friend laughed. "Why? You thinking of running for Public Defender?"

"Politics gives me hanging chads. Hives. A rash."

"I'm just letting you know Clemens will be asking."

Alex still had paperwork to take care of, which meant dinner in town. Choice wasn't the issue – there was everything from middle-American franchises to casino steakhouses and novelty restaurants. He wasn't really in the mood for pirate wenches or singing waiters, and one could only have so much Kung Pao. That left a couple of hole-in-the-wall treasures, an honest-to-goodness Philly cheesesteak, or the Soul Food Café, a small diner that lived up to its name.

Maybe he could make it there before the clouds on the horizon turned into something nasty.

"… the knurled edge does suggest that it is a some form of coffer or container rather than a tablet," Carrie dictated, using her smartphone as recorder. The advantage was that her notes would immediately become available in the cloud, with no risk of losing a cassette or other media. She hadn't really learned much in her prior visit, returning to the site with additional tools. She asked a worker to break up the concrete around the perimeter, and another to stand by with an acetylene torch to cut away the rebar. They could then lift the block away to reveal the surface of the object. Hopefully, the object itself was surrounded by packed earth and not more reinforced construction.

"Okay, Miss," said the torcher. "I'm about to start. You should wait upstairs."

Carrie did as the torcher suggested. She took the time to review notes she'd made about Armand Roget, the building's owner through its entire history. An eccentric sort who kept to himself, the only news stories about Roget were a one-time run on the tables at the old Sands, and the more recent articles detailing a vociferous battle with the city council back in the 1990's.

The voice of Jeanine, Evie's contact down at the lab, filters through the phone, "Hey. Got those results back for you. You're looking at the same caliber weapon, but with a completely different rifling pattern."

"Aw, shit...that means we're missing a weapon," Evie balances her phone between her ear and shoulder while she sorts through her papers. She quickly finds the page that she's looking for and places it on top of the stack. Pulling a pen from her pocket, she says, "Gimme the particulars."

Jeanine rattles off a bunch of specific information about the bullets that had been collected. All the while, Evie scribbles it down, sometimes turning a page to the side so that she can write along a space that is not already filled with her chicken-scratch. Unconsciously, she chews on her bottom lip as she writes, worrying the flesh between her teeth.

Soon, Jeanine stops, ending the conversation with, "Good luck, Evie. I'll call you if anything else turns up. Oh...and tell Saul that he owes me. Big time."

Evie's eyebrow shoots up and a bemused smirk breaks across her face, despite running into yet another obstacle in her investigation. " 'Kay," she chuckles. "Do I need to beat him about the head and shoulders? Because, I can do that!"

Jeanine's laughter tinkles through the phone, "No, no! Weellll...mayb...nah!"

Laughing softly, she says, "Thanks. Take care!"

She hangs up the call and looks back to her notes.

"Elder Futhark, certainly. But not from the period," Fisk ran his hand over the sarcophagus lid. "Are there any additional inscriptions on the sides, Miss Warburton?"

"No, Dr. Fisk," Callie said. "But there's a surprising absence of tool marks. Something like this would have to be carved, wouldn't it?"

"That we cannot discern the methodology does not mean 'space aliens,' as that one fellow likes to spout," Fisk said sternly. "It simply means that we don't know, and will continue to explore the possibilities. For example, it could be poured. The mottling occurs as the compound cools unevenly, and an acid bath could explain the striations."

"We'd need a metallurgic analysis to be certain, then," Callie said. "A poured compound would be different from meteoric iron."

"Have the sarcophagus removed and taken to the university," Fisk told the site supervisor.

"Miss Warburton will do a short survey of the excavation, and you should be able to resume work in short order."

Fisk ran a series of tests on the outside corner of the sarcophagus. A sample of the metal was easily obtained from within the runes. He examined the flakes under a microscope.

"Interesting," he said. "It's meteoric iron, after all. But we still don't know whether this was carved from a single meteorite, or from several. We'll query databases and newspaper archives. The building is from the 1940's, and a meteor of that size would not have gone unnoticed."

"We're recording, Dr. Fisk, if you want to proceed?" asked another student.

"Of course," Fisk answered. He ran a fiber optic scope around the underside of the lid, checking for hidden catches or indications that the lid was booby-trapped, found nothing. "There appear to be no hidden catches, only a wax seal, which will be quite brittle. Prybar, please."

Fisk drew a surgical mask over his mouth and nose, then donned a Plexiglas face shield. He accepted the prybar from Callie and wedged it under the lid. At first, the lid refused to budge. Then there were several loud cracks as the seal gave way.

"It looks to be solid metal, so let's be careful. We'll be carrying it to the left and setting it down on the table there," Fisk directed. "On three …"

They lifted the lid clear. Fisk was the first to look inside.

"Oh, my god," Fisk paled.

The cameras showed them what had left Fisk unsettled.

It was a human skeleton.

And while its clothes were faded with age, the cut of the blue serge fabric was unmistakable. Not to mention the shield pinned to its left breast pocket. There was a clear indentation on the right side of the dead man's skull, and the right hand was missing.

"Miss Warburton, please call the police."

Alex made it most of the way to the diner. About a block-and-a-half away, the impending storm broke, a full-on Vegas gully washer, with rain sloshing over his shoe tops and putting the waterproofing of his trench coat to the test. He made it inside and stood there, dripping, rather than shaking himself off like a dog.

"Just hang your coat and hat up, and find a seat, Alex," the waitress called out. "I'll bring you a towel."

"Appreciate it, Maggie," Alex smiled. The place was quiet – it wasn't the dinner hour, and it wasn't shift change at any of the precincts or hospitals. Just a few locals, like himself. He recognized Detective Cartwright, but only by reputation. A younger couple with a bit of a party-ready look to them. Maggie arrived with a menu and a towel, and it felt like a gallon of water sluiced out of his hair.

"Usual daily special," Maggie said. "Chef has smothered pork chops, as well. And the cr—"

"—awfish etouffee over cheese grits. Just what the doctor ordered."

"To drink?"

"Just a Coke."

"Food'll be up in a jiff."

Evie glances at her text messages. There is nothing of pressing importance, only a message from her mom asking if she is going to come over for Sunday dinner. She makes a mental note to call home later that evening before slipping the phone back into her pocket.

Once again, the door chimes merrily, admitting yet another customer. The detective looks up, unable to help herself. It's sheer force of habit (and nature) that makes her take note of everyone that enters.

This time, she sees a familiar face. Well, sort of familiar. Much as Mr. North knows Evie through reputation, so too does she know him. His name is well known within the law community. She's seen him around the courthouse on several occasions, though she's never spoken to the man.

This does not stop her from giving him a friendly nod and smile as their eyes meet, a silent greeting between two civil servants.

The bell on the door jingles and Lya leans back in her booth to take in the waterlogged man who entered the diner. "Man...I'm even happier we skipped that party now, Hitoshi, the stage would've been drenched!" Her friends fork stops half way to his mouth in shock as she realized what she just said.

"Yeah, I said it," she chuckles as she kicks him playfully, "you can stop staring at me like that. Even I've got to take a break sometime. "

Lightning streaks through the sky followed by a booming rattle as squealing late-night partiers run past the diner window with coats and newspapers covering their heads. "Besides..." she sighs as she looks out the window. "I can't shake the feeling that we've got a bigger event to attend and I've somehow lost the invitation, ya know?"

Evie heard her phone ring, but ignored it as she was still juggling pieces of the case in her head. Most folks would hang up before five or six rings, figuring the call would go to voicemail. This time, the phone kept ringing. She glanced at the display, saw that it was HQ. Just after dark, inasmuch as Vegas actually got dark. Never a good omen.

"Cartwright."

"Hey, Evie. I know you're still working on the Davison case, but I have to drop another one on you," said her boss. "Cold case. Construction crew uncovered a coffin, sarcophagus, whatever you call it."

"Where at?"

"Roget Building. What's left of it, anyway. Stuff was buried under the foundation."

"So no real crime scene," Cartwright frowned. "Where am I going?"

"Lab at the University. And Evie? The victim looks to have been one of our own. Badge 5849, Officer Thomas Cardinelli, went missing during a nasty round of flash floods. His patrol car was found in a culvert, he wasn't. Figured he'd just been drowned, body swept away. We were wrong, obviously."

The door to the diner slammed open, and another rain-soaked patron came in. Maggie greeted him with a cheerful smile. He looked to be in his twenties. Stringy - and wet - black hair fell to just below his shoulders. He wore a motorcycle jacket, but had no helmet. A greasy t-shirt over black jeans and work boots. Dark circles under red-rimmed eyes suggested getting caught in the rain was the least of his problems. There was a brooding quality to the way he half-slouched at the counter. He glanced towards Cartwright, looked away a bit too quickly, only to see Hitoshi leaning back against the intersection of wall and bench, his long legs stretched out.

"Merde," the newcomer mutters under his breath.

"Huh. Okay, I'll head on over to the university, assuming that anyone is still there. If not, I'll drop by in the morning. I'll let you know as soon as I find something," Evie's brows furrow and a small frown tugs at the corners of her mouth. "Thanks, chief."

As she ended the call, the door chimed again, admitting a rather sketchy looking fellow. There was certainly nothing at all wrong with looking sketchy. Heck, there had been more than a few occasions where she had probably appeared less than trustworthy after long nights of work and frustration...and no shower...and less sleep...

She turned her attention back to her phone, turning it sideways to make it easier to read and type. She pulled up a search engine and quickly began looking for mention of Thomas Cardinelli, the floods and the search for him.

Lya's eyes narrow as she takes in the newcomer to the diner as she's seen her share of thugs before. From the conversations she'd been hearing in the booth behind her she figured the lady must be a cop... and if Hitoshi and her make this guy nervous, then something is definitely up.

She takes a sip of her coffee with one hand as she reaches below the table to grab her cane and nudge Hitoshi in the hip. When he looks her way she shifts her eyes towards the newcomer at the counter. Here goes nothing...

"Aw man, out of coffee!" she moans as she picks up the mug and gets up from their booth to take a seat two stools away at the counter. "Hey Mags, how about some of the good coffee this time? I know you've got some free trade rainforest coffee in the back and you've been holding out on me. How about being a sweetheart and finding it for me, eh? After the night I've had I need the extra boost." Come on Maggie...take the hint and make yourself scarce in case the shit hits the fan!

With one hand grasping the coffee cup she reaches into her pocket with her other and pulls out her flask. "Probably has something to do with the rum," she chuckles before smiling at the man at the counter and gesturing with the flask towards him. "Want to try a taste? It's so smooth you don't even notice you're drunk till you stand up!" Let's see if I can get a closer look at this guy and see what his deal is...

"Yeah, thanks, I'll pass," the newcomer mutters. "Not much for rum."

There's a mischievous gleam in Lya's eyes as she mimics a pouring motion once more. "Are you sure?" she says, leaning a bit closer.

The newcomer shakes his head. The phone chimes to announce an incoming message. He grabs the phone and holds it out of sight under the counter's edge. The movement is enough for Lya to catch a glimpse of a tattoo, the ragged edge of a wolf's head over scroll work and the crossed hilts of two rapiers. The kid was part of the Manada de Lobos , the Wolf Pack. Not the thugs who'd tried to rape her that one night, but with an equally unpleasant reputation.

Evie's ears perk at this turn of events from the singer. Her eyes lift from her phone and she watches quietly. In all honesty, she is all for giving people the benefit of the doubt. She's met burly, hairy bikers who were nothing more than giant kitties on the inside, and sleek, handsome GQ types who would just as soon stab you as speak to you. But...she had to admit that there was something about the man...something she couldn't put her finger on...

It was the reason, despite her telling the chief that she was leaving, that her butt was still firmly planted in the booth. And, it was going to stay that way until things shook out here.

Hitoshi glances out of the corner of his eye at the man and mentally sizes him up. "Hmm, he might be trouble." He thinks to himself. Quietly he sips his tea, but now is on alert. While Lya was one to be loud, Hitoshi always grew quiet during situations like this. Slowly he shifts position in the booth so he's closer to the edge of the end, all the while continuing to drink his tea as if nothing is wrong. His free hand rests nonchalantly on the hilt of his sword, the familiar feel of the wooden walking stick sword as much of a comfort as the tea he was drinking.

The newcomer fumbles with a smartphone, one in the bright fruity colors of a WalMart discount item. He texts someone, then lays the phone on the counter. Another edgewise glance at Hitoshi.

"The good stuff, eh?" Maggie repeats cheerfully. "I put on a pot when you and Hitoshi walked in, should be ready by now. Let me go check." She disappears into the back.

Evie keyed in the search terms, got newspaper articles that told the same story the Chief had given her. Cardinelli was a patrol officer with a solid reputation. He was from a law enforcement family, parents deceased, a brother and sister still in Vegas. There had been nothing suspicious about Cardinelli's disappearance at the time, but having his bones turn up under the foundation of a building made it murder.

Her search is disturbed by the roar of a custom-tuned engine. More than one. A half-dozen young men swagger into the diner. Two head to one side, down towards where Alex North is sitting. The others saunter past the other couple and mill about a corner booth. One of them stops by the nervous-looking newcomer, who suddenly looks more confident. Strength in numbers, no doubt.

"Hey, hermano pequeno ," he says, gesturing for the newcomer to join the larger group. They head towards the others in back. A nod in the direction of the Japanese man, and a smirk. A dare, then.

That-a-girl Maggie... "Hey your loss, muchacho," Lya replies with a forced grin as the rest of his gang saunters through the door. She spins in her stool and hops off, exchanging her coffee cup for her cane as she walks by Hitoshi with a grim glance before swaying towards the cops table and forcing another smile. "How about you lady? It goes great with coffee!" She bends over her coffee cup and pours a little rum into her cup as she whispers the name of the gang to her.

Hitoshi watches the rest of the gang walk in and sighs to himself. He's not sure which gang it is, but to him they are all the same, nothing but trouble. Which is what looked like was about to happen.

As soon as the rest of the gang show up, Evie goes on high alert. Inwardly, she sighs at the young man's choice. Had he simply sat there, had a piece of pie and done nothing, everyone would've gone about their day without giving him so much as a second thought. Now, though? Yeah. There's no way that she's leaving the restaurant until these jokers clear out. She may not know exactly which gang she is looking at, but she can tell trouble when she sees it.

At this point, Lya wanders over and tips her flask over Evie's cup. The detective gives a small gasp of surprise and moves her hand over her cup to try and protect if from the alcohol which she assumes Lya wasn't lying about, sending a few drops of golden of rum streaming across the back of her hand.

Evie starts to give Lya a polite refusal, "I'm sorry, ma'am but, I really shouldn't have anything like that..."

Lya whispers the gang's name.

"...I'm still on duty," she finishes softly as she looks up at the singer, meets her eyes, and gives a small, almost imperceptible nod of thanks.

Manada de Lobos. She knows them. Granted, she's not as familiar as the beat cops since she spends most of her time chasing cold cases but you'd have to be deaf and blind to not know about them and still work in law enforcement. Once again, Evie pulls turns her attention to her phone. Not wishing to draw too much attention to herself, she keeps it low to the table as she pulls up her texts. She finds Saul's number and quickly types:

Group of Manada de Lobos at Soul Food. No trouble yet, but would like backup nearby. Do not enter. Do not wish to incite. All calm so far.

She sets the phone down as she smiles and says, "I know you. My little brother is fond of your band. You're part of The Furies, aren't you?"

"In the flesh," Lya replies as she spins around, swirling out her coat and finishing with a cross-legged bow with flask and cane raised. She takes a swig from her flask before putting it in an inside pocket and pulling out a Sharpie with a grin. "How about an autograph for your brother?" she asks as she grabs a napkin and writes "We've got your back, xxoo Lya Bach." She pushes it over to the cop with a wink.

"The rest of the band went to a CD party, but we got caught in the rain and decided to have our own party instead. I think it needs some music, though... don't you?" She saunters over to the jukebox and grabs some quarters out of her pocket. "Ahhh... perfect..."

Evie can't help but smile at the woman. Her style is so flamboyant and upbeat that it's hard not to instantly like her. She reaches out and takes the signed napkin, carefully folding it, "Thank you! Ian will be tickled. You have just officially made me 'The Cool Sister.'"

She chuckles and reaches into her pocket, this time pulling out one of those hard wallet cases. She snaps it open and gently tucks the napkin inside where it will be protected from the rain, "I'm Evie, by the way. It's nice to meet you." As Lya saunters over to the jukebox, Evie lets her eyes drift over the gang members, taking silent note of their general mood.

Alex shakes his head as the gang members roll in the door and separate, loosely covering opposite ends of the diner. There seems to be some byplay between the gang and the young couple, perhaps members of a rival gang, or perhaps someone they're trying to shake down. The message is clear enough - mind your own business. But Alex felt a familiar energy pulsing through his veins, the thrill he'd felt when he'd first laid hands upon the sword Worldbreaker , the gift from his divine father. The threads of War were here, to be woven into a greater tapestry … or not.

"Hola, Ryder-san," the group leader says, his tone anything but respectful. "Just you and the lady? Where are the rest of your bitches?"

The words ring out in the suddenly still atmosphere of the diner. And then a pounding bass line comes across the speakers, edgy and harsh …

Hitoshi drains his tea in one gulp and sets the cup back on the table. Standing he straightens his tie, picks up his Sword, and looks the ganger that had spoken right in the eye. "Leave Now" His voice echos slightly as he puts the full force of the power that flows within him behind his words.

"Leave now," Hitoshi says quietly. And yet, there's a force to the words that brooks no dissent.

The group leader swallows whatever wisecrack he'd had on deck and heads towards the door. His eyes widen slightly as he finds himself unable to stop, and he continues out into the rain.

The laughter from the rest of the gang members dies off. Two of them head out the door to check on their companion.

"Jefe?" one asks.  
Their leader is shaking his head angrily, his fists clenching and unclenching.

"Son of a bitch insulted my mother," he explains. He knows that isn't true, but he can't explain why he had to follow Ryder's instructions. Or why he feels oddly reluctant to re-enter the diner.

"Make him pay for it, Jefe," says one. "Maybe we pay one of his girlfriends a visit later, eh?"

Their leader nods, anger bolstering his will. "Okay, okay. I came out to get something from the car. Let him think he won."

His cruiser parked at the corner on the opposite side of the street, Saul watches the trio fetch something from their heavily-modded truck. A weapon, perhaps? That'd be a rookie mistake that could get the lot of them tossed in the joint. He texts Evie a heads-up.

The trio re-enters the diner, ignoring Hitoshi except for the very blatant act of mimicking a gun with thumb and forefinger. The three laugh as they join their friends.  
One of them pumps some quarters into the jukebox, picking several old Santana tunes …

Lya drops her head and does her best to hide a grimace as she witnesses the exchange from her spot leaning against the wall by the jukebox. Humiliation just makes them angry...gangs like this only respect a force stronger than themselves. She grasps her cane tight and runs her thumb over the words hidden in the vine work carvings as she mutters under her breath "Theo̱ró̱ po̱s i̱ dýnamí̱ mou gia na mou." (I summon my strength to me)

"Ah Santana... that's some great dance music, you know," Lya says with a grin as one of the gang looks up with a sneer from the jukebox. She feigns looking around the diner and pouts, "But there aren't enough dance partners, are there? Lets see if I can fix that..." She grins slyly as she raps her cane against the door of the women's restroom.

"Where my bitches at?" Lya's words ring out across the room.

"Say my name, say my name!" Klepto laughs as she comes out of the swinging doors to the kitchen.

Phoebe and Orithia emerge from the ladies' room, sharing a conspiratorial smile. Toxic is last to enter, coming in from outside. "Finding a parking space is a bitch. I'm just … Toxic."

And while all of the Furies could be said to be dressed to kill, there was a certain practicality to their wardrobe. Heeled boots, but not vanity spikes. Tight leather jackets, pants, and bustiers or artistically-torn t-shirts that didn't seem to bind or constrict.

There's a clear shift in mood as the numbers balance out. The Furies aren't clustered, but form a loose gauntlet about Lya and Hitoshi. The Wolf Pack has the choice of cowering in the corner or walking past Lya and the Furies to reach the door.

Lya smiled. There must be a special place in Tartarus for little boys who think they're men.

Alex hadn't taken particular notice of things until now. There was plenty of parking outside, and none of the other tables had had so much as a glass of water. And there was that a-storm-is-coming feeling in the air. The problem was that punks like the Wolf Pack never knew when to back down. And now, they were cornered. The two on his side of the diner began to saunter back towards the press.

"You boys should have a seat," Alex said. "Order something. On me."

"Mind your own business."

Alex got up from the table. "I am. I like eating here, and I'd hate to see the place busted up."

"Fuck off," says one, making to shoulder Alex aside.

"I asked nicely," Alex's hand lands on the gang member's shoulder. The gang member tries to pull away, and his eyes widen in fear as he realizes he can't.

"Your bitches, Chica?" the leader smirks. "What's that make him?"

The remark only draws an icy look from Hitoshi.

"Hmph," the leader continues. He leers at Orithia. "You want to party? We can party."

Hitoshi looks over at Lya and shakes his head. "These Aho no (Dumbasses) never learn." He turns to face the gang. "Sorry boys, I was trying to be nice and keep you guys out of trouble, but you guys just had to be stupid just to prove a point. There's a terminology i keep hearing... now what is it? Oh yea. Sucks to be you." He moves to stand in front of Lya knowing she's not much of a fighter.

"Ladies, play nice. I like this place and so does Lya and we'd like to be welcomed back." Though his attitude is serious, Hitoshi can't help but have a slight grin, and a scary gleam in his eye.

"Play nice?" scoffs Toxic. "He needs to take out the earplugs and actually listen to our music sometime."

"Oh I love parties," replies Orithia with a sweet smile at the gang member as she cracks her knuckles. "Especially the ones where I get to beat up animals and see what's inside."

"It makes him smart enough to know who he should be friends with... and who he shouldn't piss off," Lya replies to the gang leader with a grim grin. She nods to the girls in greeting. "Now do we all want to sit down and share a drink like normal people do because seriously I've got some killer rum I've been trying to share, or do we need to continue this dance outside?"

Hitoshi chuckles. "Now Toxic, you know I only listen to Country." It was a joke between him and the band. They all knew how much he hated country music. "Listen gentlemen, Lya's being extremely nice right now. She's not kidding about the just sitting down and having a drink part."

Evie hears her phone beep but, quite frankly, she's not too keen on pulling her attention from the fight that looks like may well break out. However, she flips it open, reads the text and quickly replies, "Thnx shit going down. Standoff. No weapons so far."

She pockets the phone once more and stands, adding her presence to mix. She shakes her head, sighs and adds, "Look, guys. Things are about to go all pear-shaped in a serious sort of way and, depending on what you got out of your truck earlier...that could mean hard time for you."

Her voice is soft. She never raises the volume, but there is a hard edge, a clear warning, "Had you just sat there and enjoyed a nice piece of pie, things would not be going badly. But, you made a stupid call and here we are..."

She shakes her head, "There's a cruiser just around the corner. You really want to go down this road?"

"Lemmego! I ain't done nothin!" the gang member hollers at Alex.

"Like the nice detective said: do you and your friends really want to go down this road?" Alex asked.

The gang member tries to pull away again, but the vise-like grip on his shoulder is unrelenting.

"I said let me go, puta cabron !"

"Gods, you really are that stupid," Alex mutters. He looks at the second kid, who is standing with one foot braced and his hand in his jacket pocket. "Oh, come on. In front of a police detective and with a cruiser outside?"

The gang leader holds up his hands. "Keep your damned rum. We'll have this dance some other time. Vayamos, muchachos."

The group makes their way towards the door, the two over by Alex and Evie meeting them. The leader makes a kiss-kiss gesture towards Orithia, and another slaps Toxic's ass as he passes.

"I love redheads," he leers.

"Titian, asshole. My hair is Titian," Toxic rolls her eyes.

As the gang files out, Evie breathes a sigh of relief. The last thing she had wanted was a confrontation. She didn't want Maggie or any other of the staff injured. Fortunately, the Soul Food had been fairly empty, this evening except for this group...

Evie chuckles and says quietly, "Thank god. The last thing I needed, tonight, was more paperwork..."

Her eyes then fall to The Furies and a frown creases her brow. Where had they come from? They had not been here, earlier, and did not arrive after Lya and her friend. Evie would've definitely noticed that. In fact, Lya had quite clearly said that the rest of the band was at a CD party but the two of them had gotten caught by the rain and decided to stop here...something ain't kosher, here. She looks out the window and watches as the gang pulls out and drives down the road. Once they are gone, she steps just outside of the door and waves to Saul, giving him the thumbs up. She flashes him three fingers, forming a "W," the signal between them that she owes him a beer next time they go to Worsely's bar for pool.

"Well thank the Gods that's over," Lya chuckles as she walks over to the counter and hops on a stool with a spin. "Now we can get back to what's really important..." she whips out the flask and grabs some coffee cups from behind the counter as the Furies call out in unison "Wine, Women and Song!"

"Exactly!" Lya replies as she pours a little of her rum into each cup. "Klepto, was Maggie ok when you came in through the kitchen? I'm sure she could use a drink after all of this." she looks over to the booths. "Officer Evie? Care to join us in a toast? And what about you kind sir in the sharp suit?"

Orithia sits on a stool at the counter and pouts as Toxic consoles her. "It's ok hon... we'll get you a pinata next time."

Phoebe leans against the jukebox with quarters in hand. "Enough with the never-ending guitar solos... "

Hitoshi goes to the window and watches the gangers as they leave. Frowning he walks over to Lya, snags a cup of rum and throws it back before stepping outside to light up a rare smoke. Something wasn't right, he could feel it. It was in the air, the gangers were just the start. However, it wasn't something he'd tell Lya. No need to worry her. Quickly finishing his smoke he looks up at the sky for a second before going back inside and up to the counter. "Maggie, How bout some pie all around, it's on me."

Evie politely holds the door for Hitoshi as he steps out and she steps back in, the two of them passing briefly.

She smiles and shakes her head at Lya's offer, "Thanks, but no. I really am still on duty. In fact, I was supposed to be headed to the university when the Lobos dropped in, but I felt like staying was the wiser course. Now that that's over, though..." She chuckles, "Back to work!"

"A slice of apple, then, please," Alex says. "I'll pass on the rum. Even if it would make the paperwork I still have a bit more amusing."  
A brief pause. "So, who are you that gang members quail when they see you enjoying a cup of coffee and some pie?"

"We are but humble minstrels kind sir," Lya chuckled as she handed out the coffee cups to the four women who gathered around her for a toast.

"And we're very protective of our Lya," says Toxic as she gently hip checks her with a laugh and grabs a cup.

"Gods knows she needs it," adds Klepto as she takes hers.

"Oh you bitches you love it," Lya laughs. "Hitoshi is the one who is going to have a heart attack one of these days, since he's been looking out for me since we were kids. I've already driven him to drink before us!"

"Live life to the last drop!" They all call out before downing their drinks and setting them on the counter.

Alex recalled the last time he'd seen a woman of this caliber, and it had been the valkyrie who came to claim the crew of the downed helicopter. Lya and her friends had the same direct, brook-no-nonsense manner, veiled under the glamorous mien. He wondered if the Manada de Lobos even had an inkling of the kind of trouble they'd nearly bought into. Or were still planning to, if the leader's parting words about having this 'dance' at another time.

"Alex North. I have a private practice ... law. Usually defending the guy who can't swing fancy lawyers in suits."

Hitoshi frowns. Maggie hadn't come out of the kitchen. "umm yea, what Lya said. They are the minstrels, I'm just the chaperon." He looks through the serving window trying to see Maggie. "Hey Lya, somethings up. I'm gonna go check on Maggie." With that said he moves around the counter. "Hey mags, you need a hand or two back here?"

Hitoshi knew Rick the owner well enough because he was the brother of Mike who owned the Auto shop Hitoshi worked at from time to time. In fact, it was Rick who gave Hitoshi his old Honda motorcycle. A cycle that Hitoshi still kept running to this day.

"Rick? Anyone else back here?"

"Hitoshi?" asks Rick. He has the staff - Maggie, another waitress, a second chef, and two busboys - in the back of the stockroom, out of harm's way. He's standing at the door with a baseball bat. "Do I still have a restaurant? And was that a case of oh-shit-that-Ryder-guy-is-here, or are those punks sick of eating at Mickey-D's?"

A protection racket wouldn't be entirely out of the question, although such things were now fronted by pleasant people in tailored suits. Nuisances like theManada de Lobos didn't work the collection side. They started fights, tagged your building, torched your dumpsters, that sort of thing.

Hitoshi chuckles. "Yes Rick, you still have a restaurant, and its safe to come out." He smiles and shrugs. "As for why those guys were here, I don't really know. I know they didn't seem happy to see me, and they were ready to start something. I certainly didn't recognize any of them though. Have they come in here before and tried to start trouble?" He starts picking up the kitchen that was left when Rick and the others made their dash for the back stockroom. "Lya, everyone's okay back here!" He shouts out while he works.

"I think I've seen all of them at one time or another. 'We're always open, and you're always welcome,'" Rick says, mimicking a television commercial from several years back and best forgotten. Word of mouth was the Soul Food Diner's true strength. "Admittedly, we have an eclectic customer base. Cops, musicians, Japanese businessmen, and now gang members.

"I gotta say, it scared the hell out of me when Klepto marched in through the back door," Rick shakes his head. "Thing's supposed to be locked. At least from the outside."

Hitoshi realizes Rick is assuming Klepto came in through the back door, instead of 'beaming in' as the girls usually do. He's thankful it was one of their less-showy entrances.

Lya waves goodnight to Officer Evie and smiles in relief at the good news. "One more round then for our culinary compatriots," she calls out to the back as she pours a new set of drinks.

"This might've just been an unfortunate case of the rain making strange bedfellows," she says to Alex, "but I can't help but feel there's more to it. He won't tell me," she nods towards Hitoshi in the back and continues in a conspiratorial whisper, "but I know he feels it too. It's like..."

"... a storm is coming," Alex nods. "The rain is just the beginning."

He fidgets with the ring on his left forefinger. It's a simple spiral design, made to look like a rope or cord. There's a distant look in his eyes for a moment, and wherever his mind is, it's not here in the diner.

"You know, I think I'll take you up on that rum, after all," he says.

"Yeah... thought you might," she muttered to herself as she poured another drink and passed it down the counter.

"Thank you, Lya." Alex takes the drink and raises it in salute. "Ave victores mortuis," he says quietly, then tosses the drink back.

Hitoshi steps back out front and grins. "Well it looks like everyone is okay then." Suddenly his cellphone rings. Picking it up and looking at who's calling, he groans and looks up at the ceiling. For a moment he contemplates not answering it, but after 3 more rings he answers.

"Yes mom?" ... "What? Why am I late? No Mom, you didn't tell me that you planned for us to have dinner tonight, I told you that tonight was the CD party for Lya and the band and that I was going to be there. Yes, yes I did. I even marked it on your calendar on your desk just so you'd know. Nooo, your plans do not trump mine or Lya's... No, I don't really care that you found a nice cute waitress at the Casino and invited her to dinner. No, I don't care about that either, I'll get married when I'm damn good and ready."

He looks over at Lya and rolls his eyes while mouthing "More Rum Please." Silently. He waggles the cup he grabbed before in emphasis.

"No mom, I am NOT going to give you my address. Lya and I moved out because of you being exactly like this. Both of us live on our own now, and we like it the way it is. No, I don't care that you could get me a better job, I LIKE guarding the band, and working at the auto... Yes, yes I am ungrateful, and a horrible son. No mom, you haven't been providing for me since I moved out, I tore all those checks up that arrived in the mail, the money is still in your account. What money I have, I made myself without your help... Okay mom, love you, gotta go, NOT going to listen to this anymore."

He ends the call and tosses the phone on the counter sighing as he does so. The phone starts ringing again seconds later. Angrily he turns it completely off. "Well that's going to be fifty or so messages in the next hour or so. Tell me why we didn't move away from Vegas again?"

"She just wants the best for her son," Alex smiled. "For me, it was the 'Army? You're joining the Army?' talk and a week of tears and near-hysterics. She was afraid I was going to get killed by a sniper or and IED."

He paused. "Well, a chopper I was in did get shot down, but I survived."

"It all just reminds me of why I ran away from home, honestly," Lya mutters to herself as she pours another drink and scoots in down the counter. "I don't know why you stay here, Hitoshi... but me, I stay for the excitement... and things look like they're getting a little too dull around here again for my tastes." She grabs her staff, spins around and hops off her stool with a flare of her coat as she slips her flask back into her pocket. "Whatta you say, guys?" She looks around at Hitoshi and her band mates. "If that party is any good it's got to still be going on. All else fails we might get lucky and the Lobos are even stupider than I thought."

Toxic picks up two coffee cups and clinks them together as she sings out "Lobos... come out and play-ay..."

Klepto lets out a loud laugh. "I knew we shouldn't have watched that movie."

Hitoshi can't help but laugh. "No, she's great. That was perfect. As for the party, I say lets get going, I'm up for a good time!"

"Like I said, I've got work to do. Spent the day in court, now it's time to play catch-up," Alex shrugs. "It was a good day, though. Got an innocent man acquitted."

"Well then I'd say it was a fantastic day all around," Lya grins as she reaches out to shake his hand. "Till the next time." She reaches into her coat pocket and leaves $40 on the counter. "Sorry about the crazy, Maggie!" she calls out before heading towards the door and holding it open. "Hitoshi? Ladies? Time for the ramblers to keep on rambling..."

"We're going to a par-ty! We're going to a par-ty!" The Furies sing out in unison as they strut out the door.


	2. Daughter of Heimdall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Officer Evie Cartwright learns she's more than just a good cop.

It's a quiet drive to the University. Something about the scene at the diner didn't add up, least of all the mysterious appearance of the four ready-to-rumble women, none of whom seemed particularly impressed by the little boys playing tipos duros. And Alex North. Typical lawyer, but the gang member had reacted like the Jaws of Life had a lock on his shoulder. Evie sensed that no one would remember those parts of the story, chalking up the resolution to a timely dollop of good sense and the presence of a police detective.

Night classes had let out. A few students were milling about the student union, which was doing its usual beer-and-a-movie night, featuring Spider-Man 2. The sign had been decorated with Halloween-style cobwebs.

The academic buildings were quiet. A campus security guard directed her to the Archaeology wing. Janitors were just starting on their rounds and paid her no mind.

"Dr. Fisk?" she asked, entering the lab. She could see the sarcophagus in the next room, the brightly-lit workspace in sharp relief to the dimly-lit office area.

A desk lamp snapped on. "I'm afraid Dr. Fisk has gone home for the evening. You must be Detective Cartwright. I'm Dr. Hall. You're here about the find?"

"Yes. Human remains, I'm told."

"Indeed. Let's go into the lab and you can have a look." Work on the find had stopped with the discovery of the skeleton. "Tell me what you see," Hall asked. "I'm always interested in a different perspective."

Evie noted the obvious. A skeleton, clad in the faded blue serge of a police uniform. Badge left behind, sidearm and walkie-talkie missing. The right hand was gone, the point of separation a clean one at the joint. The uniform evinced several bullet holes - right thigh, right abdomen, right shoulder, but a complete evaluation would be difficult without the body.  
And what was probably the fatal blow, a depression in the skull - possibly from a pry bar or baseball bat. 

Evie had trouble reconciling those injuries with the missing-presumed-dead story that had made the official report. The practice with cold cases was to question everything, re-examine old assumptions, revisit old clues. A police cruiser found in a culvert, its door allegedly torn off by flood waters, the officer driving it believed swept away. There were no readily-available aerial reconnaissance resources in the day, no thermal or FLIR (Forward-Looking InfraRed) cameras to pinpoint the fading heat of a dead body beneath a layer of mud and debris.

The bullet holes didn't follow the model of a gangland execution, but that didn't mean there hadn't been some kind of exchange. Cardinelli is wounded in the open, makes it to his cruiser and takes cover behind the door. About to radio for backup when someone smears him across the pavement. Injury to skull from a point of impact, perhaps the door handle. Loss of hand because his hand was inside the car.

Maybe.

But like the events at the diner, Evie had a feeling there was more to it than that. Evie pulls her phone out of her pocket and tabs over to the flashlight app. Flipping her phone around so that the light shines into the sarcophagus, she begins peering around, looking for any other bits of bone that may be in the box.

As she looks, she says, "That's a mighty clean separation there, at the wrist. Now, my first thought is that he lost the hand when the car door was violently closed on it, but that doesn't seem quite right. There are a ton of little bones in the wrist and a car door isn't meant to slice. It crushes. So, there would be damage to either the ends of the radius and ulna or even some of those little wrist bones (I can never remember all their names) still embedded in the flesh at the base. Without something that actually slices, it's not going to be that clean." 

She stops and thinks, "Well, actually, I guess it's possible that it could be that clean if the door slammed further down on the hand and the flesh tore. But, that would mean that all the wrist bones would've had to stay with the hand and none with the arm. Still seems unlikely that you wouldn't wind up with a few of them still hanging around."

"Heck, could you even cut off a hand with a car door? Is that even possible? How much pressure would it take to do that? Maybe if someone rammed his car door with their own but that would've caused more than just head trauma and a lost hand. There would've been multiple fractures..."

Evie stops and mutters, "Was the hand even found? They didn't have a body so had no idea that a hand was even missing. No need to look for one....but that doesn't mean that one didn't turn up, somewhere, and was never accounted for."

Mentally, she makes a note to do a search for any unidentified body parts turning up around that time.

Turning to Dr. Hall, Evie asks, "Do you have a pair of gloves I could borrow? I'd like to search his pockets." She smiles and adds, "I got the call while I was at a restaurant and didn't run by HQ before coming here. It was late enough that I wasn't sure that anyone would be here if I took the extra time."  
Dr. Hall offers you a box of disposable gloves.

"You've already seen more than most," he says. "I think Carleton has a greater interest in the sarcophagus itself, actually."

The dead man's pockets yield a wallet - a driver's license for Thomas Cardinelli, an assortment of bills totalling fifty-four dollars. A receipt from another diner in town. A photo of a pretty young woman - possibly a girlfriend, as records didn't indicate the officer had been married.

And a ring tucked into a utility pouch on his Sam Browne belt. The ring looks to be silver, with no setting. It appears to be a simple coil of rope, and nothing more.

"I suppose you'll want to take those," Hall says, rummaging through a couple of drawers before finding plastic bags that will do for evidence collection.  
She gratefully accepts the bags and collects the contents of the pockets. She can examine those more closely, later.

She takes a step back and looks at the sarcophagus itself. Turning to Dr. Hall, she says, "What can you tell me about the sarcophagus? If this is genuine and not some Vegas prop, it's not exactly the sort of thing that shows up in the North American west."

“The sarcophagus is made of meteoric iron. And, yes, it's a single piece. One meteor. Legend claims it was wrought by the Dwarves," Hall says, studyng Evie's face for a reaction. "The inscription was added later, a portion of the Poetic Edda that speaks to Ragnarok. The ultimate battle presaging the End of All Things."

"Fisk doesn't believe in 'fairy tales,' of course, and he's very persuasive," Dr. Hall notes. "He'll prevail with the Board of Regents, the Sarcophagus will end up in a musty basement unless it's found by the right people." 

“Wait...Ragnarok....," Evie stops and narrows her eyes at the sarcophagus, her mind making connections. It had been a long time since she had heard the old, Nordic tales but, for some reason, her mind recalls her younger brother reading off the stories during his anthropology studies. Ian was always fascinated by such legends and was eager to share his knowledge.

"And, this is an officer of the law. An officer who is missing his hand, the same as...Tyr? Yeah, it's Tyr. Odin was the one missing an eye..." She crosses her arms and peers at it, "Huh. Well, now...that can't be coincidence."

She rakes her brain, trying to think of any strange, Nordic cults floating around out there but she draws a blank. Anytime she's heard of anyone professing to still worship the Nordic gods, it's been in the context of those New Age folks. They can be a little weird, but generally harmless.

She then realizes what Dr. Hall has said and turns back to him, "Wait. What you said seems to indicate that this sarcophagus is not just some sarcophagus. (Well, anything made of a whole piece of meteoric iron is going to be special, regardless....) But, it sounds like this is a specific,special thing. What is it?"

She glances back at Officer Cardinelli, a touch confused, "Whoever did this...it's symbolic? Someone buried Tyr.." 

"I doubt that it's actually Tyr," said Hall. "Gods, or god-like beings, are pretty tough. And the Norse Gods are big on prophecy. Buried in a sarcophagus is not how Tyr's story ends."

"Tyr sacrifices his hand to bind the Fenris Wolf. You're probably right about it being symbolic, however. Today, the phrase is 'send them a message.'"  
Evie blinks, caught completely off-guard. This man is speaking as though the gods are real. Or, is he? Her lips clamp down in a thin line of frustration. Normally, life is very clear to her. Oh, certainly, there are mysteries to be solved. However, those mysteries are simply logic puzzles to be turned over and inside out, things to be examined and finally solved.

Standing here, in this man's presence...she's just not sure. Things seem muddled and she has no idea why. No rational being would suggest that all of those legends were real. But, something in him seems to undeniably radiate Truth. And, something inside of her resonates with that. 

But, surely....naaaaah. This guy is just a scholar who likes to speak of his specialty as though it's real.....Right? she thinks.

Trying to pull her mind back to what she knows, to the rational world, she mutters, "So who is sending the message? And who is it intended for?"  
"The gods and their ... agents," Hall said quietly. "You among them, Evie Cartwright. This is more than a cold case. You can see it. And it is no longer safe for you to remain in the dark, daughter."

"I am Heimdall, Guardian of the Bifrost between Asgard and this world," he says. The quiet demeanor of a professorial sort is gone; Hall/Heimdall stands at-ease, with his hands clasped before him - a pose any security or law enforcement professional knows well.  
“Say what?" Evie manages to mutter, her jaw falling slack.

In all of her life, she has rarely been really, truly, UTTERLY surprised. But, now....she stands there blinking in shock as her brain scrambles to try and make sense of the conflicting information that her mind and intuition are feeding her.

One the one hand, her brain is doing a fantastic job of giving her the ol' dope-slap, Are you nuts? This guy isn't for real. Who let this nutjob into the lab? The Norse gods and Ragnarok and the World Tree and all that Viking bologna are all just legends!

But, her gut says otherwise. Oh, does it ever object to what her mind is trying to tell her. She can feel the truth of those words ring in her very core. Evie can feel herself want to relax and stand at attention before Heimdall, both her chief and...her father?

"Woah, woah, woah....hold on there, cowboy," she walks over to the desk and pulls out a chair, plopping herself down into it before she does something stupid like falling down. 

Evie looks at Heimdall, still trying to reconcile everything within herself. After a few more moments of inner struggle, she manages to beat down the part of her that desperately wants to believe without any kind of proof. The rational part of her brain takes over and she says softly, "Prove it."  
The man who claims to be Heimdall spreads his hands, and an aura of soft light comes into being about him.

"You won't remember me. Deirdre and I parted ways before you were born. I've kept an eye on you, from Asgard. A word in the right ear here and there, to make sure your career stayed on track.

"A storm is coming. Perhaps it's Ragnarok, perhaps not. But we're talking about forces that will change the world, and not for the better. So here we are. A little father-daughter chat. 

"You're free to choose, of course," he says kindly. "You have to be. Otherwise it's just more of what the other side does, forcing things to be as they want, with mortals as ... toys. Amusements."  
At first, Evie crosses her arms and looks skeptical. She's seen plenty of Vegas acts that could easily pull off a soft light show like that. But...

...but what does he have to gain by making these claims if they aren't true? What would be the motivation? True or not, I'd never breathe a word of this to anyone on the force. Regardless of the validity, I'd be laughed out of the office.

Besides that, her gut is still happily telling her that it's true. And her gut is rarely wrong. All of her life, she's had a bit of a sixth sense about things, able to sense trouble before it happens, hearing the truth or lies in the pitch of a voice. 

She sighs and runs a hand over her face, "I'm sorry. It's just a lot to take in. I mean, can you blame me for finding it a little tough to believe? Ragnarok...the end of the world....let alone me, the daughter of a god. It's just...well..." Evie makes a vague hand motion, waving as if to indicate something tremendous.

"But, it is true. I guess. My intuition has never steered me wrong before and it's saying that you are Heimdall," as soon as she says the words, as soon as she lets herself entertain the idea that it's not such a far-fetched thing, she begins to relax. 

Evie stands up and walks back over to the sarcophagus. She looks down at Officer Cardinelli's body and she knows that there is only one choice that she can make. She is an officer of the law, herself. She stands to protect the innocent, despite the terrible things that have been done by some power-hungry and ignorant people within the law enforcement community. 

"This is a message. As such, the choice of Officer Cardinelli wasn't a coincidence, I'm betting. Not just any cop would do. I reckon he was a child of Tyr," she says softly.

"So, I have a new case. Do I have any allies that I can call?" she asks, her choice clear.  
"Thomas' death is a warning, and a challenge. The warning is obvious; the forces that would bring Ragnarok and an end to the reign of the gods - the Aesir and other pantheons - are changing the rules. It was once thought that the outright killing of another Scion was out of bounds."

"Rules in a knife fight?" Evie murmured. One of her brothers was always spouting movie lines.

"The challenge was more specific. This sarcophagus was warded against my sight. Not permanently - just long enough to bury it under a building. That's to undermine my authority, and perhaps drive a wedge between myself and Tyr and others."

"You may find that a mundane answer will satisfy your superiors, simply because most mortals have forgotten about us in favor of gods of their own making," Heimdall advised. "Where it leads you, personally, I cannot predict."

"Thomas was, perhaps, a bit over-confident in his abilities; that was, in the end, his undoing. I am pleased you have the sense to recognize this is not a tasking to bear alone. Another of Tyr's sons has found his way to Las Vegas; you have crossed his path before - his name is Alex North. There are others, but the best alliances are built on friendship as well as common purpose. You will find them in short order."

There's a rattling sound. Someone trying the door to the lab; a janitor, most likely. "I warded the door against mortals," Heimdall smiles. "But we still have much to do." Evie listens, taking it all in. Several times, she has to smack down the part of her brain that still insists this whole thing is patently insane. 

She waits patiently for the rattling to stop and the sounds of footsteps wandering away before she continues. She's positive that the janitor will be back around, soon.

"Other pantheons? Then, the Aesir aren't the only ones that exist...," she mutters softly as she starts taking pictures of the sarcophagus and the body with her phone. It's always good to have photos for later observation, in case something was missed.

"What is the political scene among the gods? I think I remember that Loki was troublemaker for you....us....I guess," it feels strange to include herself in something as vast as the gods and their kin. "What about the other pantheons? Who would want to move forward with something like this?"

She grins over the top of the sarcophagus as she continues to take photos from a kneeling position, close to it to capture details of the writing, "Who'd ya piss off, chief?"

Chief. That feels more comfortable to Evie. It's easier to think of Heimdall as a superior officer than as a father. After all, Jason is the man who raised her. He is the one who let her sit behind the wheel of his vintage cars and make "vroom" noises while he worked, held her when she cried and taught her how to make the most excellent BBQ this side of the Mississippi. 

"Most of the gods worshipped by man are real. So are the Titans, the Frost Giants, whatever you want to call them. Ragnarok isn't just a battle of opposing armies, it's a battle for free will." Heimdall lets the light show dim. "And this is where we need you, our Scions. You are children of this world as well as ours. You have a better grasp of technology and mass media. Frankly, we're a headstrong lot and we need your help."

"But you've a long way to go before you come into your full power," he says. "You're going to need some help."

He takes several items out of the pocket of his lab coat and sets them on the counter beside you. The first is a duplicate of your detective's badge. Then there's a pair of sunglasses. And last, there's a collapsible baton. "The badge and the glasses will unlock your powers. If you lose them, you lose those powers," he says. "The baton doesn't grant any special powers, but it's a good measure harder than the standard issue. I understand people don't run around with swords any more. Well, most people, anyway."

"I'm afraid there's not an instruction manual. Your powers will grow over time, and you may find you have an affinity for purviews that I do not."  
Evie smiles and shakes her head ever so slightly at that answer. It doesn't look like Heimdall is going to offer any insight into how the gods get along. So, she'll just have to do her own research later. Assuming that the old legends are true, it should give her some clues as to who or what would want to bring about such chaos. Wikipedia holds all the answers!

She ceases her photography and moves to Heimdall, reverently accepting these completely ordinary looking gifts. But, no matter how unassuming they appear, she can feel an instant connection to them.

"Thank you," she says. Evie takes a moment to shuffle some things around in her purse...well....bag. There's no way it could ever qualify as a purse in most women's eyes. It was big, clunky and entirely utilitarian, with plenty of pockets for carrying whatever she may need. She clears out a pouch and makes sure there is nothing heavy in the nearby compartments before slipping the glasses in. She also takes the time to switch out her mundane badge with her divine badge.

The detective returns her attention to Cardinelli's corpse. Very carefully, she begins combing over him. Not just his pockets, but his blues and everything else. She even turns over his badge and looks at the back of it.

"Sometimes, people who want to send a message also leave a calling card. They want the recipient to to know who they should fear..." she says softly as she carefully moves Cardinelli's bones.

"The gods simply call them the Titans. For the Greek gods, they are their actual forbears; for the Aesir, they aren't what-came-before, but the darkness that comes after. It's like a low pressure system; you can't see it, but there are winds and storms as a physical manifestation," Heimdall says. "I would start with Armand Roget, the owner of the building where the sarcophagus was found. If he was not directly involved, then perhaps he has associates or sponsors who were." 

Evie nods as she continues to look, "Yeah, that's where I was planning on starting after I finished here. But, I figured that I may as well be thorough while I have everything right here in front of me. Considering the circumstances, I don't know if I'll get to see this again. If there are agents working against us, they could well move to have this thing tucked away from sight, now that the message has been delivered, and I might miss a clue."

"Plus," she continues, "I'm guessing that this wasn't placed in the Roget building by a god or titan or whatever. It was probably another child of a god and, as awesome as they may be, I'd imagine that they are just as capable of fucking up a crime scene as anyone else. There still might be something tangible in here that could provide a clue."

Evie suddenly realized her mind was sorting through tidbits of forensic expertise, gleaned from the techies at CSI over her career. The size of the bullet holes told her the caliber of weapon - a .45 - and the clean-through shots spoke to jacketed slugs. The placement suggested it was panic fire, rather than targeted, from someone who did not expect resistance, like a police officer and Scion approaching them. The wounds, then, spoke to the action of a second person. A blow to remove Cardinelli's gun hand ... with a weapon imbued by the gods or through magic, explaining the clean cut. But wouldn't Thomas have had similar gifts to hand? The ring, possibly - though Evie was hesitant to try it on. There must be something more.

Unable to move the body, she began feeling under the edge of where Cardinelli's torso would have been. Her fingers brushed against something. She paused, probed a bit more, then felt her fingers close upon the haft of a weapon. It had probably been dislodged when the sarcophagus was moved. It was a blade, and she could feel the power in it. Not even age and disuse could hide or diminish the quality of the weapon.

And she knew Thomas hadn't been holding his sidearm, but the sword when he was struck down. It hadn't been a simple police matter at all, but the affairs of the gods ...  
Evie chews on her bottom lip, trying to decide whether to leave the weapon where it is or take it for safekeeping. On the one hand, a regular person isn't going to be able to do much with it if it is found...and she is sure that it will be once forensics shows up. On the other hand, if it should be discovered by a scion of an enemy (and she doesn't even know who that would be, yet!) then it could possibly be used for great harm.

"Heimdall, these gifts from the gods....could another scion use them? Like, if someone got a hold of my badge, could they use it?" Another thought occurs to her, even as the words are out of her mouth, and she mutters, "But, if they could use Thomas' weapon, why would he be buried with it? Why didn't they take it?"

Maybe the only thing that she has to worry about is what the forensics team would think about a...what? sword? axe? dagger?....hard to tell what it is just by that one touch.....being buried with the body. She snorts in amusement at that thought. As if being in a sarcophagus like this is just an everyday thing...The whole thing is so weird that the weapon will probably be written off. 

"If you lose a relic, you lose any access it provides. In time, as you grow into your power, you will not need them," Heimdall says. "If, on the other hand, a relic is stolen - taken from you with knowledge of its special qualities - then the thief will have access to those purviews while you do not."

"Depending on the nature of the relic, a Scion may or may not be able to sense where it is. You could mark it with a Vigil Brand, for example, and be able to track it for a day."

Heimdall looks at Cardinelli's skeleton and sighs as if acknowledging a failure on his part. "Thomas' killers didn't take any relics he carried because they felt they had no use for the purviews he had access to. And because the gods are not beyond a bit of Machiavellian design. Think of it like stealing someone's cell phone when it can be tracked via GPS."

"So there's no particular harm in leaving Thomas' sword with him, other than it becomes something that needs to be explained."  
"In that case, I'll leave him his things. It's not like the relic will be any weirder than a sarcophagus with runes all along the side," she sighs softly. "Besides, everything should go back to his family. I know it's been a long time and he was already assumed dead, but I'm sure they will be glad to at least have the closure that a body brings."

She glances at the door and says, "I don't think there's much else I can get out of this scene. I should probably skedattle and let the janitor do his job."

Turning, she looks at Heimdall and is truly at a loss as to what to say or do, at this point. All of it, this whole affair, is just....overwhelming. She's not sure how she's supposed to feel or what she should say. 

"So, uhhh.....see ya around....I....guess," Evie stands there awkwardly.  
"If the Norns ordain our paths should cross, they will," is all Heimdall says. "Much may come and go before then."

Whatever glamour or disguise Heimdall held to appear as a professorial sort fades. His lab coat becomes a knight's surcoat that is the kind of white that popular detergent brands promise to deliver. Golden armor gleams beneath it, and the legendary sword Hofung. His aspect brightens until he is wreathed in bright light. The light fades, and Heimdall is gone.

"Oh, boy," Evie breathes. She makes her way out of the lab.

From his vantage astride the Bifrost, Heimdall watches his daughter briefly.  
"I am proud of you, daughter. I wish you safe travels, though we both know your road will be dark."


	3. Official Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Scions reveal their true nature over dinner...

The next day, Evie spends most of her time working on the Davison case at HQ. After all, Officer Cardinelli isn't getting any deader. Therefore, cold cases usually take a back burner to anything that is more recent. Still, she presents her preliminary findings to her commanding officer...minus all the divine information. She also puts in a request for records of any unidentified hands from about the time that Cardinelli disappeared.

Once evening rolls around, the detective's mind turns back to the events of the night before. She needs to get in contact with Alex and Ms Bach as soon as possible. Alex's office isn't all that far from police headquarters, so she decides to walk over there and see if he is in. If she shows up on his doorstep late, it could be a good excuse to invite him to dinner to discuss things.

But, how to approach Ms. Bach? She turns several ideas over in her head, at first considering using her brother Ian as a draw. But, she quickly dismisses that idea. She's really not keen on pulling her family into this. If things get nasty, she doesn't want there to be any connections at all between the rest of her family and what she is investigating. Who knows what kind of powers her enemies might have? If he's there at their first meeting and an enemy discovers it, they could jump to the wrong conclusion.

Instead, she pulls out her phone and looks up the number she had found earlier in the day. All it had taken was a bit of light digging for her to locate Ms. Bach's cell number. She dials as she walks, then awaits an answer.

Hands scramble out from under the sheets and grab at the annoying device that would dare to remind her how late that CD party did in fact go on last night. The Furies were in full form and looking to let off some steam after their little encounter so they had played a high energy set that kept the party going until the early morning hours.

Finally her hand hits upon it and she sits up against her pillows and blearily pulls her hair out of her face as she answers her phone.

"Lya... talk at me," she mutters into it as she leans over and searches through her drawer for her cigarettes.

“Ms. Bach, hello. This is Officer Evie Cartwright. We met last night at Soul Food. I just wanted to check up on you, today, to make sure that you were all right. I wouldn't have put it past the Lobos to circle back around and try to even the score after everyone cleared out," as she talks, she tries to think of something convincing and not weird to get the singer to meet her. 

"Uhhmm....so, I was wondering...would you like to drop by my apartment, this evening, for a drink?" mentally, she smacks herself. Oh gawd, it sounds like I'm trying to pick her up.

Lya chuckled to herself as she lit her cigarette and readjusted her cell phone against her ear. "Between you and everyone else I think they thought twice about it, as we didn't hear hide nor hair out of them on the way to the party. Shame you were on duty and all... I could've got you in and then you'd reallymade your brother jealous."" she takes a long drag off her cigarette before she continues. "But since you''re offering, I take it you're off the clock? I wouldn't pass up the chance to finally get that drink Officer Evie. You want the whole entourage, or is this a private affair?"

“That's good to hear," Evie answers evenly, though she knows that her cheeks are probably burning red from what she perceives as a colossal, social goof. But, Lya seems to be taking it in stride so....maybe not?

Evie stops at an intersection and watches traffic, waiting for the all clear to cross the street. Her eyes flick across the other pedestrians as she talks, "Well, my apartment is only so big. I'm not sure the whole crew will fit comfortably at my table but...you're welcome to bring who you like."

"By the way, I'm going to order food for everyone. This is sort of impromptu and I think about all I have in the fridge is mustard and couple of apples. Is there anything that you like or don't like?"

Traffic stops and the green "cross now" sign begins to flash. The detective hustles across the street.

Lya takes another drag of her cigarette and smiles. "I like long walks along the beach and dancing the night away, Officer Evie," she replies sweetly, "but barring that, good rum and interesting conversation will do. I'll give Hitoshi a call and we'll see you tonight. " She crawls over her bed to her nightstand and grabs a pencil and paper. "What's the address?"  
Evie gives Lya the address. Her apartment is located in a modest part of town, away from the bustle of the main strip, "I look forward to seeing you. Take care," Evie hangs up. Still standing outside of the building, she heaves a sigh.

Well, that wasn't awkward! she thinks. Evie is certain that Lya was yanking her chain, a bit. After all, her friend Hitoshi will be coming, as well. Still, she can't help but mock herself a bit, Thus begins the adventures of Socially Awkward Scion Evie!

She chuckles at herself, shaking her head, before taking the stairs up to Alex's office.

_Alex North, Attorney at Law / Al Graf Bail Bonds_

It's a small duplex, the bondsman on the ground floor, the attorney on the second. Oddly enough, North doesn't seem to take many referrals from his downstairs neighbor. Instead, his record seems to speak to championing the underdog. A contentious rape case involving a soldier at Torii Base in Japan. A wrongful death case against the NYPD. And, just the other day, an acquittal in a case where a witness had identified the defendant in a line-up, but nothing else had supported that assertion.

The lights are on, and the door is propped open to let some of the cool evening air inside. Nonetheless, Evie knocks on the door frame and announces herself.

There's North's desk, a lightweight jacket draped over the chair. Two suit coats and several ties hang from a coat tree - for court appearances, no doubt. The desk is full, but neatly organized.

The center of the room features a small couch and armchairs, for more informal conversations. An assortment of magazines, not all that different than most waiting rooms, lay on a coffee table.

In the back, a row of barrister-style bookcases. Another desk that is much more cluttered, books and papers speaking to North's workload.  
In the corner, there's a small table with a microwave oven and a mini-fridge. A water cooler stands beside it, and several bottles/empties sit under the table.

"Detective Cartwright," Alex says. "What can I do for you?"

Evie wanders into the office, her hands stuffed in her pockets. She smiles and says, "Well, Mr. North, I was hoping I could ask for your help on a new case that has been tossed my way." 

She looks at the piles of papers on the man's desk and gives a soft grimace. She knows all too well what it is like to be buried under paperwork, "I see that you probably already have a full plate and I hate to add more to it but, this is something that I feel would benefit from your unique perspective."

She pulls a hand out of her pocket to run through her perpetually untidy hair, "I was wondering if you would mind dropping by my apartment later tonight to talk. I've asked over another consultant who I feel will also be helpful. I figured it would be easier if we all met in one place so I don't have repeat myself."

"I'm also springing for dinner. I figure it's the least I can do for everyone if you all are going to put in a bit of overtime on my behalf. What do you say? Lend a gal a hand?" she looks at him hopefully.  
"Paperwork is paperwork. Never seems to be less, only more. I tried complaining to the boss, but he reminds me the paperwork starts with 'P,' the same as paycheck," Alex laughs, referring to himself. "Some of this is just tidying up after yesterday's hearing."

"Sure, I'll stop by. Although if it's a police matter, you should probably talk to someone in Clemens' office."  
“Thanks! I really appreciate it," she reaches out to shake Alex's hand. "And, uh...no. No. I'm pretty positive that you are the man for this job."

Not sure if he has her address, she jots it down on a piece of paper for him, along with her home phone and cell number. As she hands it to him, she smiles and says, "Well, I need to get on the road. I walked over, so I need to get back to my car and then see about getting food for everyone. See you tonight."

With a final wave of farewell, she starts to hoof it back to her car. Once she reaches the old, dusty Camry, the plops herself into the driver's seat and pushes in a David Bowie CD. On the drive over to the ABC Store, she allows herself to finally relax, not think, and just enjoy the music. Though she has the singing ability of a camel with laryngitis, she still merrily sings along to "Let's Dance."

At the ABC Store, she buys a nice variety of alcohol. She knows that Lya is fond of rum, so she asks the clerk which is good and buys that. She also picks up a nice whiskey and a few micro-brew beers for variety.

Once she has all the hooch that she thinks will be needed, she swings by Soul Food, again. Since everyone was there last night, she's certain that everyone will like whatever she gets from here. She settles onto a seat at the bar and places an order for a bunch of chicken, some collard greens, hush puppies, and black-eyed peas - enough for four people. For dessert, she orders an entire blueberry pie.

She spends the time waiting alternately searching the internet for information about every pantheon she can think of, chatting with Maggie and watching stupid videos on YouTube. 

Finally, she makes her way home and prepares for her guests to arrive.

 

~~~~~

Lya pads across the cold floor into the bathroom and stares at the smeared make-up and lipstick marks in various colors on her cheeks. "Yeah... that was a good night," she chuckles before turning around and starting the water for a shower so it can heat up. When you're living above a club, you learn to be patient with the plumbing.

With one hand she grabs a toothbrush and with the other she slides open her phone and presses the speed dial for her friend. Thank the Gods it's not the weekend, which means he's probably at work and she can avoid talking to his mother with her constant nagging about "getting a real job." If only she knew what my real job was...

"Hitoshi, my man... what's shaking?" She calls into the phone once she hears someone pick up.

Hitoshi, having been up since 6 AM was hard at work on a Buick Skylark that was brought in. Deep under the hood and covered in grease, he was so absorbed in his work that his phone ringing startles him causing him to bang his head on the underside of the hood. "Fuck! Damnit! Ooww. Hitoshi here." he says as he answers the phone and rubs the top of his head. He straightens up ad cracks his back as Lya speaks. "Oh hey Lya. Great party last night, hows the hangover and the voice?" He grins knowing just how much she slammed back, and just how much the band had sung.

“Nothing a few hot toddies won't cure," Lya jokes as she leans against the sink. "As to a hangover, I wouldn't know... you know full well it takes more than a few drinks to bring this girl down. Anyway... got a curious call from our friendly neighborhood police officer today checking in on us and asking us over for drinks now that she's off duty tonight. Wanna come with? It was too early in the morning for me to tell if she was asking me out on a date or not... figured it'd be easier for everyone involved if I brought you along with me, dude."

Hitoshi scratches his head. "Yea sure, I got nothing to do after work... I assume this is happening after work, and not right now... right? Because if it's right now, I can't make it. Job and all that." He grimaces knowing the tongue lashing he might get.

“You're safe, dude... she said this evening. Stop by my place after work and we'll head over there. Until then, I've got a hot bath with my name all over it. See ya!"

Hitoshi heads out of work a few minutes early to prepare. After showering, shaving, and picking out an ash grey suit with blue tie affair, he hops into his second vehicle, a 2013 Chevy Camaro, and heads over to Lya's to pick her up.

“La-dee-dah," Lya sings out as she skips down the stairs in low cuffed boots, black leather pants and a purple mesh top with black bra underneath. "I bet Daddy's gonna have words if you scratch this baby," she says as she walks to her side running her finger along the edge before getting in next to Hitoshi. "Here's the address..." she tosses a crumpled piece of paper at him, "let's get this baby moving!" 

Hitoshi grins and looks at Lya over the top of his shades. "Yea, I will absolutely ground myself if I crash this car. I still have five years worth of payments on her. I should have bought a Honda, but..." He revs the engine and peels out. "...then I wouldn't look so hot in a Honda." He glances at the address and takes a screeching right turn at the light. "Drive it like you stole it!"

"'Should've bought a....' are you telling me that fixing cars got you this thing? I find that hard to believe." she looks up the street at a Goth with his long coat flapping in the breeze and slaps her leg excitedly as she rolls down the window.

"Ooo... slow down for a sec... " she swiftly unbuckles her seatbelt and leans out the window with two middle fingers raised. "Suck it, Stevie!" 

She then sits back down and re-buckles herself with a wide grin on her face. "Long story..."

“Yep. Damn thing cost me Fifteen thousand. Gonna be making Payments of Two Fifty for the next Five years." He grins. "Still, you seem to be enjoying it. See? a great day job can get you good things." Reaching into the console he pulls out a pack of smokes, and lights one up. Then he holds the pack out to Lya. They are Clove cigarettes.

She takes a clove and flicks out a lighter from her pocket before leaning back with a long puff of smoke. "You already know what job I have, Hitoshi... and being stuck clocking in at a 9-5 doesn't seem that inviting when you're supposed to be helping to save the world and shit. I like the nightlife and the travel... other than good friends and even better alcohol, what else does a girl need, eh?" 

She takes another long drag from the clove as she watches the city pass by her window. "As much as I'd love to make a new girlfriend, something tells me that Officer Evie has more to offer than alcohol tonight."

Meanwhile, back at her apartment, Evie is hurriedly trying to make the place decent. It's not that she's a slob or anything. She's not! Her place is actually fairly neat. The problem is that it's dusty and feels unused. She just sleeps here! Most of her time is spent at HQ, the lab, out investigating, with her family or friends....

So, now, she's scurrying about with a rag, wiping layers of dust off of end tables and shelves, straightening up books that have been left lying on counters and closing doors to messy areas, like her laundry room. 

What decorations she has feel disjointed, like several different people have attempted to style the place. That's because that is exactly what has happened. There are pretty floral paintings from her mother, wacky statuettes from her best friend, movie posters from her brothers, model cars that she made with her father...there is no running theme in this place.

The one thing that is hers and hers alone is the tall shelf in the living room that is covered with books. Fantasy, horror and sci-fiction books line the shelves, along with a neat row of journals. Each spine is labeled with the year that it covers. Below that is another stack of journals. These, however, are unmarked.

Hitoshi snorts. "Saving the world? Really? Yea, neither of us do that... yet. But the band is a great job for you. You have your job, and I have mine. It all works out... for both of us." He cranks the radio to his favorite tunes... Hard Rock and Metal. Punk was his second Favorite. A few minute later he pulls up in front of an apartment building. "This looks like the place." Parking the car he gets out, snags his cane, and walks over to open the door for Lya, ever the gentleman to his friend.

“Sure we do, Hitoshi," Lya replies as she grabs her own cane and steps out of the car with a smile. "we just do it one person at a time. You know, like Alex with that innocent man... and us stopping that gang last night." She walks up to a wall of name plates with buzzers and scans them till she finds what she hopes is the right one and presses it. "You don't have to do it all at once, you know." 

Hitoshi shrugs. "Maybe you are right Lya... shit, almost forgot. " he walk back over to the car and pulls out a bouquet of flowers. "It is proper to bring the host a gift."  
"Is my presence not enough of a gift already?" Lya jokes with a wink before a voice crackles over the speaker...

Evie is busily shaking a bouquet of fake flowers that appears to be covered with about two centuries worth of dust as the buzzer to her apartment rings. 

"Oh, shit..." she looks at the cloud of tiny dust particles hanging in the air and hopes that no one has allergies. She tosses the fake flowers onto her bed, giving up on making them look nice. She figures hiding them in there is good enough.

Quickly moving to the door, she presses the intercom, "Hello?"

"The party has arrived!" Lya's voice cheerfully announces, her usually lovely voice distorted by the building's old technology.

"Come on up," Evie answers, buzzing her in.

The detective then scurries to the windows and throws them open, hoping that a breeze will come through and carry away some of the dust. 

Hitoshi holds the door open for Lya. "Nope, neve... okay, most of the time it is." He tries to look serious, but can't help cracking a grin. Once they are inside the building elevator, he pops a mint into his mouth and offers one to Lya. "Can't go up with our breath smelling bad, now can we?"

Lya looks at the mint with a raised eyebrow as she snuffs out her cigarette. "She called me over for drinks, dude... wouldn't want to mar the taste of good rum."

They take the elevator up to her floor and find the door number written down on the paper. "Shave and a hair cut..." she mutters as she knocks rhythmically on the door.

Hitoshi smiles and pops the mint into his own mouth. "Yea, but what if she offers Mint bailies in coffee?"

“Then the mint will be properly blended with alcohol and caffeine... as was intended," she replies before she starts drumming the beat to their latest hit on the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex is still sifting through paperwork when his smartphone chimes, reminding him of the invitation to dinner.

He decides to swing past a convenience mart to pick up a bottle of wine. Evie's invitation didn't strike him as being entirely social, but a social courtesy would still be appropriate.

He's bending down to take a closer look at a label when he hears the door's photo-sensor chime.

"The money, pendejo. Gimme the money," someone snarls.

"Sure, sure, be cool," the clerk temporizes.

"Nuh-uh, don't you be pressing no alarm button," comes the warning.

Alex stands up quietly, taking a circuitous route towards the front counter. He's almost within reach of the punk when something - a flicker in the punk's peripheral vision, a glimpse in the shoplifting mirror, a twitch in the clerk's eye - gives him away, and he's staring down the barrel of a Glock 17.

There's a sound of thunder.

Alex is thrown backwards and crashes into a rack of bottles. Footsteps as the punk flees, empty-handed.

"Oh, Jesus, mister, oh, Jesus, don't be dead, please, please, please," the clerk is babbling.  
Alex's eyes snap open just as the clerk is about to attempt CPR or something. There's blood down the front of his shirt, as well as a nice variety of excellent California wines.  
"Relax, I'm okay," Alex rasps. He rolls to one side, turning away from the clerk as he gets up. "Go call the police."

Three patrol cars respond in short order. By then, it's hard to distinguish the blood on North's shirt from the red wine splashed all over his clothes.

"Description?" asks one officer.

"Happened too fast," Alex shakes his head.

"Clerk says the kid shot you," Saul Anderson.

"Vest," Alex says. "Hurt like hell, but I'm okay. Except for being drenched in wine. And I had a dinner engagement. If ... if I can get back to my office, I have a go-bag, and maybe not make it look like I stood the person up."

"Well, it's not procedure, but it's not like we don't know where to find you, Alex," Saul laughs. "Go on, get out of here. I'll get a statement from you tomorrow."

Jeans and a black 'Las Vegas' polo shirt replace his wine- and blood-stained clothes. He leaves those in a plastic bag. Stewing in wine will muddle any forensics, and though the store's security camera doubtless shows him getting shot, the convenient excuse of a ballistic vest will do.

He glances at his watch. He'll be close to an hour late.

Meanwhile, Saul texts Evie:

_Alex North took a bullet this evening, was caught in a liquor store robbery. Suspect on camera, good ID. North says he was wearing a vest, seemed okay. Let him go, since he was drenched in wine and booze. Went back to his office to get fresh clothes, says he was meeting someone for dinner._

Evie opens the door with a smile and gestures for Lya and Hitoshi to enter, "Thank you for coming! Come on in and make yourself comfortable."

The apartment is already filled with the delicious smells of Soul Food. Evie had put the food in the oven on low, keeping it warm while she awaited the guests, and now the aroma of chicken and warm hushpuppies wafts about.

Her apartment is a small, one bedroom, one bathroom deal. The living room, kitchen and dining room are all one room with a counter dividing the kitchen and living area.

A large, over-stuffed sofa dominates the living room. It's hideously ugly. Yellow and green paisley patterns romp merrily across the cream fabric, looking like vaguely artfully arranged puke. However, the moment you sit on it....oh.....then it becomes apparent why Evie owns this monstrosity. It is like heaven! Soft and warm, it invites you to just put down your head for a second and have a nap. 

“Mmmmnnn..." Lya inhales deeply as she smells the delicious scents coming from the kitchen before continuing, "seeing as we were so rudely interrupted by the Lobos last night I was glad for the invite, Evie."

"Your generosity is most humbly appreciated," ads Hitoshi with a small bow as he enters the apartment. "As is Ricks if that's his hushpuppies that I smell...."

She walks over to the couch and grins before spinning around and flopping down on the sofa. "Reminds me of one of my favorite curb scores... best couch ever as long as we put a sheet over it," she chuckled. "But I digress... there's drinks to be had, right?"  
Evie returns Hitoshi's small bow without thinking. It just feels natural to offer such gestures in kind. "It is," she says. "Since we were all at Soul Food, I figured we all like their cooking."

"I wasn't sure exactly how many folks you would bring and what everyone likes, so I got a variety of alcohol," she walks over to the kitchen and takes down some glasses. "Let's see...I have rum, whiskey some micro-brews. There's also diet coke in the fridge..."

"Oh! There will be one more person joining us. I expect Alex will arrive shortly. I wouldn't be surprised if he lost track of time with work," she chats as she opens the oven, checking to make sure that nothing is getting dried out. "You met him at Soul Food, too."  
"Ave victores mortuis," Lya replies softly. "I remember him." She shakes herself out of her reverie. "Anyway... rum and Diet Coke sounds superb," she calls out.

"Just the Diet Coke for me," ads Hitoshi as he takes in the pictures hanging around the apartment. "Somebody has to be the designated driver in this pair."

"Why do you think I asked you along?" Lya winks.  
Hitoshi holds out the flowers to Evie. "Forgive my forgetfulness. These are for you. It is always proper to bring the host a gift."  
A brilliant smile lights up Evie's face. She takes the flowers from Hitoshi and says, "Thank you! They're beautiful. Let me find something to put them in...."

She stands there and thinks for a second before an expression of "Aha!" crosses her face. She goes into her bedroom, giving her guests a quick glimpse of an unmade bed and a giant, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles poster on the wall before she emerges with a vase made from swirling, pastel glass.

"So, when's your next gig?" she asks, her question directed to both Lya and Hitoshi. 

As she moves to fill the vase with water, her phone beeps from it's place on a small table by the front door.  
“We're due to play at The Dive next Saturday actually... want me to swing some tickets for you and your brother?" Lya asks as she leans over the arm of the couch.  
Laughing, Evie says, "That would be great! Yet again, you are securing my spot as Cool Sister." She sets the flowers down at the end of the kitchen counter, briefly. She'll find a better spot for them in a few minutes.

She glances at her phone but decides to answer it after she has gotten everyone their drinks. She pours a glass of coke for Hitoshi and mixes up some rum and coke for Lya. 

"So, are you guys from Vegas originally or did work bring you here?"

“Vegas has been my home for as long as I can remember," Lya replies as she takes the drink and nods in gratitude at Evie. "Mom and I didn't see eye to eye much though... so I took to the streets till I met Hitoshi." She takes a long drink and makes a satisfied noise before whipping out her phone and sending a quick text. "So I don't forget...I'll make sure your name is on the On Call list for you and a +1 next week."

Evie, Lya and Hitoshi lounge about in the living room, chatting about nothing in particular. It's the normal "getting to know you" chatter that happens when people first sit down and meet. Lya and Hitoshi share some wild tales about happenings at their various gigs, tales of drinking and assholes and shenanigans. Hitoshi talks a bit of shop with Evie when he notices the model cars strewn about her home, but she confesses to not actually knowing much about them. Her father loves cars and, thus, likes to share his passion with her...even though she honestly couldn't tell you the difference between a carburetor and muffler.

About 30 minutes later, Evie's phone beeps again and she remembers that she had meant to check it earlier.

"Excuse me. I should probably make sure that's nothing important. Granted, if it was HQ they would call and keep calling, but...still...," she leans across the arm of the chair she's sitting in and grabs the phone. Two messages are waiting for her. She glances over them and her eyebrows creep up in surprise.

"Holy crap!" she breathes, "Alex was shot. He was at a liquor store and got caught in a robbery. Saul says he's okay, though. Says that he's on his way."

Evie clicks through to the second message, "And, yeah....here's Alex's message. He says he'll explain when he gets here."  
“Daaaamn...well at least it must not have been too bad if he's on his way here in the same night, right?" She takes another drink and her rings clink against the glass as she ponders for a moment. "Here's hoping he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and it wasn't something more serious, you know?"

"Like someone looking for revenge," says Hitoshi quietly. He stays contemplatively quite after his last comment. "Your choice of decor is eclectic, but enjoyably so. I rather like it. By the way, the flowers are still sitting on the counter. They would look much better of the coffee table for you to enjoy Officer Evie."

~~~  
Dressed in a manner better suited to a court appearance, Alex texts a quick 'OMW, will explain when I get there' to Evie's cell phone.

He'd lied to the officer. Alex recognized the suspect easily - it had been one of the Manada de Lobos, the same kid he'd grappled with the other night at the Soul Food Diner. Which probably explained the kid's willingness to pull the trigger. Once the police had pulled an image from the store's security cameras, he'd tell them he recognized the kid's face.

Fueled by whatever divine genetics ran in his veins, Alex had noticed his decidedly more-than-human abilities shortly after the conversation with his father. He worked through the entire flight from Torii Army Base back stateside, and got off the plane without feeling groggy or jet-lagged like his fellow soldiers.  
He'd been one of numerous NYC residents who'd run afoul of a salmonella outbreak, with others in his office building being laid out sick for several days. He'd had a bit of a rumbling stomach, but nothing more serious, even though they'd all had lunch at the same Chinese restaurant.  
He'd healed from small cuts before, including a painful slice from a kitchen mandoline*, but discovering he could take a bullet was a shock. Alex was thankful the officer hadn't called for an ambulance, as it would be difficult to explain how he'd survived a point-blank shot to the chest.  
He wasn't about to bank on being immortal just yet.

Traffic wasn't bad, and he made it across town without difficulty. The previous day's storm had swept through during the night, and it was simply the not-entirely uncomfortable evening heat.  
Alex checked that he had the right apartment number, and rang the doorbell.  
~~  
“Yeah, Saul says he was wearing a vest. Also, he said that the security camera got a good shot of the suspect, so we'll probably have them hauled in, soon. It's hard to argue with camera footage," Evie flips her phone shut, her brows furrowing. 

Shaking her head, the detective sighs, "The Lobos are a stupid bunch. I wouldn't put it past them. But still....if it was an actual hit, I imagine that they'd wait until Alex was alone somewhere. They seem the sort to stack odds in their favor...no witnesses, no help to be called.....I'm betting this was a case of wrong place, wrong time."

Chuckling, Evie replies to Hitoshi's words, "Thank you! Almost everything here is a gift from someone. I've never been big into home decorating. So, my family makes up for my lack of interior design skills by getting me stuff for my birthday and Christmas. And, of course, they all have different ideas about how the place should look." Again, she laughs lightly, "But, I like it, too. I reminds me of them."

The three sit and continue to talk. About 15 minutes later, the door buzzer goes off. Hearing Alex's voice through the fuzzy intercom, she buzzes him in.  
"Detective Cartwright. I apologize for being so late. I had ... an accident and had to change clothes. Which meant the suit I had at the office," Alex smiles. He offers no additional details.  
However, Evie notices a faint trace of stiffness to Alex's movements, particularly in his left shoulder as he goes to remove his suit coat. And Lya can smell the bouquet of wine - a nice California vintage - clinging to the lawyer.

"Ms. Bach and Mr. ... Ryder, yes?" he says. "Wait. Is this about the other night at the Diner? Some kind of legal problem, Hitoshi?"

Hitoshi blinks in surprise. "Legal problem sir? No, I have none that I know of. Officer Cartwright called Lya and myself here."

"Far as I know we were just invited over for drinks and conversation," Lya replies as she raises her drink. "From the smell of it though you already beat us to it? Tell me you didn't waste such a good vintage on a thug with a gun..."

"News travels fast," Alex says. "I'd wanted to bring a bottle of wine as a gift and wound up getting caught in the middle of an attempted robbery. I suppose taking a bullet with a vest on is better than 'two killed in liquor store robbery gone bad'. So I'm wearing a bit of a California Cabernet Sauvignon, yes."

Evie says nothing as Alex sticks to his story. But she's certain he wasn't wearing a vest when she visited his office earlier, and there was no reason to wear one for an invitation to dinner.

"Evie had said something about a case," he says to Hitoshi. "So I assumed it was some kind of professional consultation, even an off-the-books one."  
Evie nods and smiles apologetically, "Yeaaah.....I'm sorry, Lya, Hitoshi. I wasn't entirely straight with you. I do have an ulterior for asking you here, tonight. This is a bit of a consultation, and most definitely off the books." 

Nodding towards the dining room table, she says, "I'll grab dinner. We may as well eat while we talk."

Evie goes to the kitchen and starts pulling the food out of the oven and placing the dishes on the table. As she works to get everyone settled and food served, she talks.

"Yesterday, at the restaurant, I had a cold case dumped in my lap. Back in the 1950's, an officer named Thomas Cardinelli disappeared. Now, this took place during flash flooding. His cruiser was found in a culvert and he was gone. Everyone assumed that he had drowned and his body had been swept away."

She places a glass on the table for Alex and goes to retrieve some drink for him as she continues, "Fast forward to yesterday. I get a call that a sarcophagus was found under the Roget Building. Inside of that sarcophagus is a body - Officer Cardinelli. Still in his blues, still wearing his badge."

Evie turns and goes to retrieve her phone. Quickly, she flips to the photos she took of the scene at the university, "The sarcophagus is made of a single piece of meteoric iron and along the outside is a Poetic Edda speaking of the end of time." She hands the phone to them so that they can see.

"Officer Cardinelli is missing his hand. And...he was a Scion of Tyr. This is a warning, a challenge. I don't rightly know what's going on, yet, but I know nothing good is going to come of this."

She lets that last bit hang there, waiting to see their reactions.  
Death to the Son of Tyr! The memory of those words filtering over the radio as his chopper was left without air support still haunted Alex. He felt the deaths of his fellow soldiers were a score he still owed someone for.

Hearing Evie use the term 'scion of Tyr' suggests she's party to some exclusive knowledge. Specifically, that he is also a scion of a god. And what does that make Lya and Hitoshi? Scions as well?

"I'm familiar with the myth," is all Alex says. He runs his fingers through his hair as if thinking. Which is when Evie notices he's wearing a ring that is similar, if not identical, to the one Cardinelli had tucked away in his Sam Browne. "Are you suggesting someone is trying to bring about Ragnarok? The end of the world?"  
Evie shrugs, "I don't know exactly what it means. All I know, for certain, is that there is a storm looming. Something is happening and we need to figure out what before it's too late."

Reaching across her plate, she takes a hushpuppy from bowl in the center of the table. She sees Alex's reluctance to come right out and say anything and, honestly, she completely understands. Had she not known for certain that he was a scion, as well, she would never admit it, either, for fear of being labeled unstable.

She looks across the table to Lya, fairly certain that she, too, is a scion. What she saw in Soul Food has her pretty much convinced that the singer also holds some measure of power.

Hitoshi....Evie isn't certain about him. However, he did manage to make the Lobos member leave with nothing more than a word. Plus, his association with Lya lends credence to her idea that he may well be a scion, too.

There is no coincidence. We were all in that restaurant at the same time for a reason. Beside....I may as well take the plunge. In for a penny, in for a pound, she takes a deep breath.

"I suppose I should properly introduce myself. Hi, I'm Evie Cartwright, daughter of Heimdall."

"I'm Alex North. A funny thing happened on the way to dinner: I got shot at point-blank range by a young man who I confronted the other night at the diner. And, no, I wasn't wearing a vest," Alex says quietly. "Heimdall's daughter, is it? Well met. I guess that makes us cousins, of a sort."

“I knew something was going on," Lya exclaims as she slaps the table. "I just couldn't put my finger on it!"

"Well I hate to break up the family affair, but Dad loved his Grecian women and wine and absolutely hated the cold." Lya grabs the bottle of rum off the side table, pulls the cork off with her teeth and proceeds to take a long swig before cradling it in her lap and leaning back in her chair. "Case you couldn't figure it out, I'm a Scion of Dionysus," she grins.

"This whole Ragnarok thing... that's end of the world stuff, right? I used to know this guy in a band called Fenris and he was all into that kind of shit."

Hitoshi looks at the floor. "My Father is Hachiman." He says softly.

"I am the son of Tyr," Alex adds. "I learned of my ... divine parent after a helicopter I was in got shot down. The pilot had radioed for air support, and the response from someone - we never learned who - radioed back, 'Death to the Son of Tyr. I survived a crash, an ambush, and several days trekking over hostile territory."

"'Well. That was a bit more of a challenge than I’d planned for you,” is what my father told me. If they don't formally recognize you, you're just another mortal.

"So what's this about my half-brother getting his hand cut off and buried under the Roget Building?"

Evie sighs and rubs a hand over her face. She feels terrible about springing this on them (except for Lya, who seems to be taking things in stride), but she honestly didn't know what else to do.

"I'm sorry," she finally says, shaking her head. "I'm sorry for kinda-sorta lying about things to get you here and then just dropping this on your heads." Her shoulders fall, "I didn't know what else to do. I didn't even know about scions and gods and all this shit until last night. I'm called to the university to look at the sarcophagus, expecting it to be another puzzle to solve. But instead of a professor, there's Heimdall waiting for me."

"I can't ignore this, though. I mean, all else aside, I can't ignore a mystery. Can't do it! I've tried. It eats at me. I have to figure this out...but I don't think that this is something that I can do alone," she says softly.

"Honestly, about all I know about Ragnarok is what I was able to find on the internet, last night. I'm not even sure this is about Ragnarok. Heimdall said that this was a battle about free will," Evie answers Lya's question.

"The simple version that I have read states that there will be a great battle between the gods that will result in many divine deaths. There will be natural disasters and the world will be flooded, but it will also be reborn new and fertile, with two human survivors."

Turning to Alex, she expounds upon what she knows, "I'm not sure exactlywhat happened to Officer Cardinelli. There were bullet holes in his blues that suggested panic fire. Whoever shot at him did not expect either a scion or the police to show up. He was killed, though, by a blow to the head. They also left his relics with him when they buried him."

She eyes Alex's ring for a second, considering whether to ask him about it. But, it's a forgone conclusion that she will. It's probably important.

Nodding towards his hand, she asks, "Your ring, Alex...what is it? Officer Cardinelli had one just like it."  
"Oooo... I know this one...didn't Fenris bite off Tyr's hand?" Lya asks before taking another drink from the bottle. "Do you think there's a Scion of Fenris?" she asks with a gasp. "What would that even be like?"

"A Fenris inspired ender cult, maybe?" asks Hitochi.

"I've seen some crazy things on the streets; believe me, so I wouldn't be surprised. When people forget how to live all they have to look forward to is death." she takes another drink and leans over towards Evie with a wink. "That's why we really are friends you know... Hitoshi keeps me alive and I remind him how to live."  
"Sleipnir," he says. "I call it Slipknot. It's named for the rope that Tyr uses to bind Fenris. Easier than hauling a great sword around town."

"A Scion of Fenris? Why not, Lya?" Alex makes mock fangs with his fingers. "If the gods assume mortal guise, why not Fenris? It might explain the apparent grudge someone has."

He takes several bites of food, washes it down with a bit of beer. "About that free will thing, the way it was explained to me is that mortals are free to live as they will, strive as they will, achieve works of art. Under the Frost Giants - or whomever the villain of your pantheon happens to be, such as the Titans for Lya's family - none of that will be allowed. It's about free wi--"

He breaks off in mid-sentence as another thought comes to mind.

"Who said it needed to be a cult, Hitoshi? Why not a street gang, one that just happens to have crossed all of our paths of late? Or maybe I'm just barking up the wrong tree," Alex laughs. "More beer. Better contemplation."

"Gangs...cults... both blind followers with charismatic leaders." Lya says as she leans forward and grabs a hushpuppy. "I was under their spell too until Hitoshi helped me, you know." She takes a bite and chews for a moment. "Wait... the Lobos... are you saying..."

"That the Lobos were at the diner for you?" finishes Hitoshi.

“It might be premature to say the Lobos were there for anyone," Alex temporizes. "Even if the only patrons were Scions."

"Coincidence?" Evie scoffs. "I'm not buying it."

"Oh, I didn't mean to suggest it was entirely by chance," Alex adds. "Just that they're foot soldiers. Cannon fodder. Fall guys. Hitoshi and Lya have a history with them, the mortals won't have a reason to look deeper."

"You mean like 'lawyer killed during robbery gone bad,'" Hitoshi grimaces.

"Which is why I don't believe it's a serious effort. A probing move at best, to see how we react," Alex says.  
Evie nods and finds herself chuckling. "Of course....Lobos...wolves. Fenris was.." she shakes her head and corrects herself, "..IS... a wolf, isn't he?"

"Well, they've misstepped. Saul said the security camera got a good shot of the robber, so we'll have no trouble having a reason to haul him in. It will give me a legitimate reason to do a bit more probing and maybe find some more information."

"Well, not me....but I bet I can put a bug in the ear of whoever is interrogating the man. It probably won't be my case, but that doesn't mean I can't find a way to get any information I need." 

"Yes, Fenris is a wolf,” Alex responds. “ If the kid is a dupe, he's disposable, and no one will circle wagons around him. If he shows up with a fancy lawyer, he's a poor rich kid with the wrong friends, or someone else doesn't want him behind bars. I can't be involved, because I'm the victim. Assault with a deadly weapon, at the least," Alex considers. "I'll chat with a friend at the DA's office, same idea."

Hitoshi folds his hands in front of him, interlacing his fingers. "It would seem to me that this Fenris needs to be taken out, or at the least, his Scion. The lobos may then fight among themselves with the power vacuum created as they try to see who's man enough to be the head of the gang. Or hopefully, but less likely, they will just disband. The main police will be no help in dealing with the situation, in fact they will probably be a hindrance and are best kept out of they way. They will only get hurt or killed."

Evie nods, "I agree. If we do go that route, I don't want any mortals involved, at all. Just keep it to us. I'm willing to put myself in danger for this, but I'm not willing to risk anyone who doesn't know all the facts and dangers."

"But...we can use the police resources up until we figure out who the head is and decide how to handle the situation."

Lya sits back up in her chair and taps her rings against the bottle in her lap. "Gods don't exactly like to show themselves in public when they can get others (she gestures to the group) to do their work."

She takes a drink from the bottle and leans forward as she sets it on the table. "Our only piece in this game is you, unless there's more to the myth that might help us, Alex."

"Fenris is the son of Loki and a giantess," Alex recounts. "The gods bound him twice with chains, which he broke. They had the dwarves create Sleipnir, which looks like a flimsy piece of rope or ribbon, and dared Fenris to rend this as well. Fenris would only do so if one of the gods put his hand in his mouth, and Tyr was the only one bold enough to do so. Of course, Fenris could not break Sleipnir, and he bit off Tyr's right hand."

"When Ragnarok is upon us, Fenris will escape his bonds. He is fated to kill Odin, the All-Father. Vidar will avenge Odin's death by tearing Fenris in half."

Alex chews on a piece of chicken and says nothing for a long moment. "It's possible that we - the children of the gods - are a kind of backup plan. The fate of our parents may already be ordained; ours, not so much. Killing Thomas and cutting off his hand isn't so much a warning as a way of saying the enemy will take the fight wherever they need to. And that our fates, in the end, will be no different."

“So far it's just been Scions of Tyr though, right?" asks Lya. "Couldn't it just be Fenris' kids acting out against their father's fate?" she grabs another hushpuppy. "Unless of course they think they've found a way to stop it for dear old Dad." Lya leans back in her chair and throws the hushpuppy in the air before it lands in her mouth. 

“If Fenris was bound, there's no escaping that part, as far as I can tell," Alex frowns. "Which makes it about Fenris escaping, killing Odin, and being torn in half by Vidar. There's no advantage to killing Tyr or one of his children, except to stir the pot."

"Why kill Cardinelli and then ... do nothing? Granted, there's no shortage of crime, social unrest, political turmoil, and other problems in the world, but laying it all on Fenris and his ilk is like listening to conspiracy theorists on the radio."

“Was Cardinelli investigating anything when he disappeared that could give us a lead?" asks Lya as she leans on the table head in hand. 

"Detective Cartwright, is there any way of finding that out? A log book of some kind?" Alex asks.

"Evie," she says after she finishes chewing a mouthful of chicken. "I think we're past formalities, at this point. Heck, you're practically family!"

"Yeah, there will definitely be records of anything that he was actively investigating. Of course, if it was scion business, anything he reported would be layered in half-truths or just have flat out omissions. That's what I'm going to have to officially do with this case. But, you are right. It's a starting point!"

She pushes her chair back and goes to the kitchen, grabbing a few more beers. She comes back and sets them in the middle of the table for everyone. 

Popping the top off one, she looks to Lya and Hitoshi, "I don't know much about the music scene. Do you guys run into the Lobos often at night? Do they seem to frequent any of the clubs you play at, or anything?"

"This may not entirely be a Lobos matter, but I think they still need to be watched."

Hitoshi take a beer and takes a sip. This was a question he could answer. "Not that I as head of band security have noticed. If they have been there, they have not started anything."

"I'll look into the Roget Building, what we know about the owner," Alex offered. "I'd heard, once, that he made his fortune on a long-odds bet. I imagine that's not beyond the abilities of a Scion, or a divine sponsor. Otherwise, I can't think of much else to say except 'be careful.' Maybe it's coincidence, and maybe it isn't. The enemy is willing to kill."

“A gang like theirs, it wouldn't be too hard to find out where they like to hang out," Lya says as she pushes the bottle of rum to the side and reaches over for a beer. "All you've got to do is ask the bartender if they've been dealing with a bunch of obnoxious assholes lately. Between me and Hitoshi I'm sure we can come up with something... maybe start with the Soul Food Cafe and work backwards from there." She takes the beer and with her other hand whips out what at first seems like a switchblade handle until with a flurry it turns into a church key that she uses to pop off the bottle cap. "Liquor before beer, never fear," she says with a grin as she raises the bottle in a toast and proceeds to drink half of it down.

"If the store's security camera gives us an ID, I'm sure the DA's office will prosecute. Clemens needs to look good for re-election," Alex says. "I normally wouldn't recommend this, but, as the victim, if I bobble the ID, the kid could walk. And he and his pals would likely celebrate."

"Wouldn't that affect your professional reputation?" Hitoshi asked.

"It could. But if we're talking about the End of All Things, a 9-to-5 job isn't going to mean much," Alex admitted.

“You Vikings I swear..." Lya groans. "It's always 'death before dishonor' and constant fighting with you guys. You finally get a god with a sense of humor and what does he do? Bring the End of Days." She rolls her eyes and takes another long drink from her beer before leaning back in her chair again. 

"Now the Greeks, they know how to let loose and party. You know how I found out I was a Scion? It wasn't because the Titans escaped Tartarus and wanted to wreak their wrath on the world.. no..." her chair falls forward and she sets the beer on the table a bit loudly as she hiccups. "No... it was because Hera..." she grabs the bottle and takes another swig of the beer before gesturing wildly with it, "Hera raises her daughters to be catty bitches who demand more attention than she does."

She stands up a bit shakily and puts one hand on the table before reaching up into her hair to pull it aside and show a ragged scar on her scalp. "We were playing one of our first shows when those bitches started the riot... turns out they didn't like all those men paying attention to us instead of them. I got hit by a broken bottle that nearly killed me, but thankfully I was found by Dad and he told me what was what."

She sets the now empty bottle of beer on the table and lets her hair fall back into place as she grabs the bottle of rum and sits back down with a thump. "That's the kind of shit that I can understand... gods acting just like us with all our petty problems...not..." she gestures to Alex and Evie, "...this."  
"It seems we all have our war stories," Alex smiled. "I've always been a law-and-order sort, first as a JAG officer in the Army, then a lawyer in private practice. I don't know anything else, Lya. Maybe, if there's something after all this, I'll try something different."

"It's funny, though. Heimdall calls it a battle for free will, and here we are wondering how much 'free will' we actually have in the matter."

Hitoshi frowns. Then quietly he slides a plate of food toward Lya. Just as quietly he himself starts eating. Her drunken rant was normal to him. Food was what she needed since he noticed she had yet to eat anything other than two hushpuppies.

"And you're used to not being bound by convention, I guess," Alex adds. "For me and Evie, it's different. I'm an officer of the court, she of the law. So when it comes to acting on impulse and unconventional strategy, you may be the expert."

"So. Let's say the game is fixed. Let's say that playing by the rules will get things explained away and rationalized so the mortals can go back to their illusion of safe little lives, celebrity scandals, corrupt politicians, and a world where there are gods, or titans, or scions. How do we take the fight to them? Go public?"

Hitoshi shakes his head. "No, the general public would not believe us. All that would accomplish is getting us locked away as mentally unstable individuals. You and Officer Cartwright would most certainly lose your jobs. Lya might be able to stay out due to people thinking it's some new gimmick for an album."

“As much as I think that would boost my CD sales... probably not a good idea," Lya chuckles as she picks at a piece of chicken now in front of her.

"Heimdall says it's all about free will, while you guys are talking about how the game is fixed. I'll bet my best bottle of wine that this isn't about the kids playing out their parent's roles... it's about the kids being tired of it and wanting to change the story. Heck I want to change the story and I just heard it," she eats a piece of chicken and then makes a grab for the rum bottle that Hitoshi deftly scoots out of reach.

She sticks her tongue out at him before continuing. "They're killing off Scions of Tyr because he bound Fenris, right? We could always use you as bait and try and trap them in the act, Alex. Maybe call out the gang leader on tv with some new gangland taskforce or something and see if we can get him to show his face. If we caught him, he might be the one to actually know anything instead of his thugs."

She licks her fingers and grabs a napkin. "Either that or we focus on the rest of the story like the Slepnir and this Vidar person. I imagine any scions of Vidar would be a target, and if the Slepnir was on Earth it would be a hot commodity too. No idea where to start looking for them, though..."

Hitoshi caps the bottle of rum and keeps an eye on it so Lya can't get it again. "The problem I see is we really don't know enough about what is going on now, and what the story really is."

"Let it play out, then? If they really want me out of the way, they'll try again, and soon," Alex said. "Though I suspect learning I can take a bullet is going to pose a challenge."

“All else fails there's always faking your death and seeing if somebody sneaks into the morgue to try and cut off your hand," Lya chuckles to herself.

"Sure, just wait for the next round of flash floods, then tell them my car was found in a culvert," Alex laughed. "Seriously, though, the enemy needs it public and plausible. It wouldn't surprise me if someone was tailing me and hit the liquor store as an excuse. Poor Alex, got shot during a robbery. Perp gets arrested, goes to jail, case closed."

All through this, Evie has been sitting back, listening quietly as she eats. Finally, she speaks up, "When Heimdall and I were talking, he mentioned something about a vigil brand. It's like a power that can be used to track something or someone. I have no idea if I can actually do that but..maybe I can? I don't know. As Hemdall pointed out, my relics don't come with instruction manuals. Hell, I don't even know how to go about figuring out what I can do."

"You guys have been at this a lot longer than I have. How did you figure out your powers? Because, if I can track people and things....that could be darned useful."

She takes a sip of drink and adds, "The one thing that I know I can do just sort of happened. I don't even know how I triggered it. When I was looking at the Cardinelli's body, I just sort of knew all the crime scene statistics...whether the bullets used were jacketed, interpreting the bullet patterns, that sort of thing. Just....pfwoop! there it was, all in my head."  
“Me? I'm just naturally fun to be around," Lya laughs at Evie's question. "Here I thought people listened to me because of the message of my music... turned out they listened to me because of my genes. The rest of it..." she reaches down and grabs her walking stick to show to everyone, "came with instructions." She rubs her hand along the carved vinework of the staff and smiles as words in Greek shine briefly across the staff in various places before fading again.

"As to the next hit, it'll probably happen at Alex's work, my guess," Lya replies as she quickly snatches another beer from the table and makes a face at Hitoshi. "You hear about angry people shooting up courthouses all the time on the news these days." She opens up the bottle and takes a swig. "Do you think they can sense scions? I could always ask my girls to see if they'd be willing to watch out for you... that way they might not pick up on the fact that it's a trap and all." she takes another drink and winks. "You're a tough guy... I don't think they'd mind."

"If they can, it's a trick I haven't learned," Alex says. "I mean, it's not like that movie where the immortals get a Spidey-Sense tingle before trying to cut off each other's heads. Or at least I hope not."

"So the real world works against them, as well. If mortals can explain it away, it's hard to say, 'Well, this guy has x ability, he must be a Scion.'"

"As to your question, Evie, it's been mostly trial and error for me," Alex says. "For example, I started getting this sixth sense about guilt and innocence. If I ask someone if they did something, and they lie, I can usually spot it. The question has to be fairly straightforward, though.

"I knew I could heal some injuries - mostly cuts, there are probably a few times I recovered from sprains and didn't realize it. But the taking a bullet part was a surprise. I don't recommend it by way of trying to suss out what you can and cannot do.

"I imagine there are a few war-related things in my drawer, what with Tyr being the God of War in our family, but I don't think - or I'm not aware of - having accessed them at all."  
Evie nods, "Well, I'm sure that I'll have plenty of opportunity to figure things out."

"I think Lya's idea is a fairly good one, though. If anyone is a target, here, it's you, Alex," she says. "Having the ladies keep an eye on you wouldn't be a bad thing. But....uhh..." Here, Evie grins and clears her throat a little, "...can they be subtle? They seem a bit larger than life and we don't want it to be painfully obvious that he has an escort."

“Maybe if we explain the situation they can tone it down a bit. I'd never live it down if the fight to save the world happened and they weren't invited," Lya chuckles.

“Have one of them pose as a client? That, or we hit a show at a casino, get noticed in public? That might put Clemens off from offering me a job in the DA's Office, but too bad," Alex said. "I have to pick which world I'm going to live in, and if things really are coming to a boil ... then being the Son of Tyr is going to have to come first."

“Well Hitoshi's mom does work at that casino... we could probably set up a show there if you want to take that route. You think your mom would help, Hitoshi?"

Hitoshi gives Lya that "You have got to be kidding me." Look. Then he runs his hand down his face and sighs. "You really do like throwing me to the alligator pit Lya." He thinks for a minute. "Yea, She would. If not her, I have a contact guy I can talk to. It's a plan that can be set up. Just let me know when to place the call."

"Well, it doesn't have to be a casino where you have family on staff," Alex notes. "We just want to bait the hook, not give the enemy more targets."

Hitoshi sighs. "Much as I don't want to talk to my mother, it is actually the best idea. Security won't even blink at me and Lya going around in certain areas, and you two are duly appointed members of the state."

"Okay. Assuming the enemy feels the need to take me off the board, whether it's 'sending a message' or because I'm the Chosen One, I put myself in view," Alex says. "Outside gives them a lot more options. Inside, there's casino security, cameras everywhere, guests ... you have to worry about getting in, not looking out of place, making the hit, getting out.

"I clean up fairly well, but I drive a pretty mundane car. If we want to attract attention, I'm going to have to rent something flashier."

Lya chuckles then gets up from the table and opens the curtain a little to point down at the street. "You mean like that?" She nods to her friend. "Hitoshi's the guy to talk to about flashy cars. He might not want to give up his baby, but I'm sure he can help you hook up with something."

Alex looks to where Lya is pointing and gives a low whistle of appreciation. 

"Nice. But there is a risk that anything that gets loaned could get damaged, as well. Bullets, maybe a t-bone at an intersection," Alex warns. "If we're lucky, it'll be a drive-by or a mugging-gone-bad."

He smiles at Lya. "Though, I don't imagine they'll be too eager to tangle with the rest of your band."

"Oh no, sorry, Borrowing my Camaro is out of the question. I just bought that Last week, and still have five years of payments on it, and it isn't even a fifteen model." Hitoshi says. He slugs back more of his beer and clearly looks worried.

“I'm no help in that regard. I drive a Camry," Evie points out the window at the blue, older model car. It is completely unremarkable.

"I could call my dad, though. He might have something you could borrow. But, it would hurt his soul to have one of his babies damaged," she chews her lower lip and thinks. "Maybe he hook you up with something that is essentially a junker but looks flashy on the outside."

"Have any ideas, Hitoshi?" she asks.

"Like I said, a rental isn't completely out of the question. Plenty of rental companies catering to the wannabe-millionaire set,," Alex allows. "Unless the casino has a limousine to ferry VIPs around?"

“Well of course it does. Although I don't know if I can get it again after that one time I rented it for a band event for the Furies and it was trashed." Hitoshi grimaces. "They tend to party hard. Umm I guess I can see about getting it."

"It's Vegas, Hitoshi... I'm sure they weren't the first to trash the limousine and they certainly won't be the last," Lya scoffs as she lets the curtain fall and heads back to her chair. "Besides, that's what insurance is for, right?"

Hitoshi chuckles. "Oh the casino was fine with it. My mother however read me the riot act. Which you and I both know is horrid." He grins. "Yes I can get the limo."

"Okay, do we want to stage this for a particular time? Friday night? I was trying to think of a reason for a low-profile attorney to be hitting the casinos, but I did win a case the other day. Why not?" Alex smiles.

"Sounds like a plan to me," says Lya as she pulls out her phone and starts texting. "A sharp dressed guy like you in a casino is bound to have lovely ladies hanging on their arm." She chuckles to herself. "A fight on Friday and a show on Saturday? They're going to love it..."

"Let's say I draw fire as expected," Alex says. "If it's not a drive-by, do we want to ... acquire ... the shooter and ask a few of our own questions before the police do? Or just up the stakes and show them a bunch of street punks aren't going to do the trick?"

"Sounds good. I should be able to be around without any problems. Anyone who knows me knows my profession. I'm always poking my nose into something, so they'll most likely assume that I'm working a case."

"In the meantime, I'm going to be looking into whatever Cardinelli was investigating, if anything," Evie pauses and lets out a soft belch, food and drink finally catching up with her. "'Scuse me."

She turns to Alex, "I was planning on making sure that all of Cardinelli's relics are returned to his family along with his body. Is there any reason that you know of that I shouldn't do that?"

"I imagine we'd want to try and question them," answers Lya before finishing off the last of another beer and setting it on the table. "Otherwise we'd just be back where we started, right?" She picks up a cold chicken leg and starts gesturing with it as she's talking. "If they know anything, great... if they don't, then we've upped our chances of getting somebody higher up who does to come out of the shadows. I'd say it's a win-win either way..." she takes a bite out of the chicken, "provided we can keep you alive and all, anyway." she swallows the bite and winks at Alex. "Thankfully that's not as hard as it sounds with you."

"They still took down Thomas, Lya. I'm not invulnerable," Alex cautions. "But I will be wearing a vest this time, for real."

"Evie, as I understand it, a relic is valuable only to the scion to whom it was gifted ... or someone who steals it," Alex answers. "A mortal half-sibling wouldn't be at risk, and none of the purviews that would come with Thomas' things - assuming they're the same as the ones I have access to - will pose any overt danger. They're not going to be throwing lightning bolts or anything."

"We need to be careful about how questions are asked, too. Remember that anything we ask may well be brought up by the gang member once he's hauled in to the station and questioned about the incident," Evie cautions. "Unless, of course, you plan on letting anyone we question 'escape' and any other members who are caught are taken in."

Hitoshi grabs a couple more hush puppies and noms on them. "You know, some things are better left in the shadows. If one or more of the gang members gets a late night interrogation by some guy in a ski mask, then the cops won't know." He chews as swallows, washing the food down with a long swig of beer. "Besides, since when do gang members go to the cops for anything. "

"If we're doing this at the casino, the hit could well be public and messy. If we want shadowy, then we probably need another plan," Evie says.

"You're right in that if it happens in the darkness, a gang member isn't going to go to the police. But, if it the member is involved in a public arrest, then they will use anything they can to disparage the police and our procedures. Anything out of the ordinary could be brought up and possibly used."

Alex follows suit and snags another hush puppy. "I love the way Rick makes them. You get the corn flavor, not a mouthful of starch like other places." 

"Then, as far as the plan goes, I'm the distraction. Lie in the street and look pathetic. Maybe have one of the ladies making a scene and looking helpless - even if that's not their thing. Show people what they expect, come up on them from a different direction."

"But if you're concerned about it being too public, Evie ... do you think they'd bite if I pulled a late night at the office and left the door open like I usually do in the afternoon?"

"I'm with Hitoshi there," adds Lya. "I know you guys are agents of the law and all... but I wasn't thinking about interrogating him in a jail cell either."

Lya ponders for a moment as she chews another piece of the chicken leg. "That ring that you guys both have, Alex... didn't you say it was called Slepnir too?" She points to his hand with her chicken leg. "What if those rings have an ability that you guys don't know about and our mysterious enemy does?" She holds up her other hand and wiggles her fingers. "You know... like what happens if you get a bunch of them together? Maybe you scions of Tyr were all set up as guardians of a piece of the rope or something?"

Hitoshi looks at her with a raised brow.

"What... you all want me to be the one who thinks out of the box, right? I say we kick the box to the curb."

"Oh, I know that you weren't thinking about interrogating him after the arrest. I was saying that if we questioned him beforehand and then turned him over to the police, that could cause problems."

"Well as long as it's not the police doing the questioning, it's like Hitoshi said.. I doubt very much they're going to go running to the cops to file a complaint, you know? Between Hitoshi and the girls, I'm sure they could get it out of them. We just need the time to do our thing before the cops conveniently show up as clean up crew."

"Evidence obtained in an illegal interrogation would be thrown out," Alex explained. "But we wouldn't be asking about the attack or the earlier shooting, exactly."

He glances at his ring. "Lya, that's a neat theory, but Thomas has been buried under the Roget Building for decades, and they didn't take his ring, and they must have searched him. Maybe one ring is all that's needed."

"Speaking of the Roget Building... what's with that place and that coffin, anyway?" It's not like it was an easy ditch to throw a body in... somebody would've had to purposely break in there, find the sarcophagus, lift that heavy ass lid and place him in there." Lya tosses the now cleaned chicken leg onto her plate with a clatter. "There has to be a better reason than 'a good hiding place' if they went into that much effort." She picks up another hushpuppy from the plate. "Maybe if we dug into the building records to find out who built it? It's an odd construction, right? Maybe the architect had some weird occult history or something that could give us a lead."

"That, or whoever killed Thomas put him in the sarcophagus and erected the building overtop," Alex frowned. "I don't know if there would be any benefit to it, like Superman-can't-see-through-lead. And it might not even have anything to do with current events, though I won't put any money down on that."

He pulls out a notebook and scribbles several items down. "So. The builder. Roget. Any possible sponsor. Occult connections. Got it."

Hitoshi suddenly looks disturbed. "I just thought of something I really didn't need to think of. My father told me about Titanspwan all over the world. Fenris isn't the only one that could be waking up and starting stuff. Some of the Japanese Titanspawn make Fenris look like someone’s puppy."

"Well we'll just have to tell them our dance card is full at the moment if they happen to come calling," Lya jokes. "I'll get with the girls and go over the plan with them so we're all on the same page. Maybe if I'm lucky I can put some feelers out on the street and see if I hear anything about the Lobos too."

"Okay, Let me recap to make sure that I'm following the plan," Evie says.

"Alex will check into the Roget Building's history. I will check into what Cardinelli was doing when he disappeared. Lya and Hitoshi will keep an eye on the streets."

"Then, Friday night, we all show up to the casino. Alex will be all flashy and public, but will be escorted by the band. If anything goes down, the band and I will move to protect Alex and any civilians who get in the way. Lya and Hitoshi will take care of grabbing a shooter and asking real nice about what they think they are doing."

"Right?"

"It's like a high school prom, Lya. Everyone goes, right?" Alex laughed. "Wait. I didn't go to mine."

"Are the Furies performing or enjoying a night out? I don't exactly fit the punk image," Alex frowns.

"Anyway, I can head back to the office and dive into this research." He dug into his pocket and handed out his business card. "Anything weird goes down, call me. Learned the 'instant wake-up' trick in the Army."

"Sounds like a plan to me, Evie," says Lya as she stands up and picks up her long coat from the couch to put it on. "Much obliged for the drinks and good food, and of course the enlightening conversation."

She checks her pockets and smiles when she pulls out a purple guitar pick with their band's name on the back. "For your brother," she winks as she tosses it on the table and deftly slips one of the unopened beers left on the table into her coat pocket.

"As much as I'm glad I'm not you right now Alex, I swear the Furies and I will do our damnedest to keep you alive," Lya says as she shakes hands with the lawyer. 

Evie takes Alex's card and nods. She also picks up Lya's pick with a laugh and moves it to a small bowl on the kitchen counter where she knows it will not get lost, "I think I may just put all of this together as an early birthday present for him. He's going to be beside himself!"

There is a small stack of her own business cards near the front door. She hands one to each of them, even though she knows that Alex already has her information. Business cards are convenient....and have the added benefit of the reader not having to interpret Evie's chicken scratch handwriting.

"Thank you guys for coming. I really appreciate all of your help on this," she shakes everyone's hands as they prepare to leave. "I'll let you know what I find out about Cardinelli."

"If the Mudjehadeen couldn't take me out before I knew I was a Scion, I'm not too worried about a bunch of two-bit punks," Alex says. "Hmm. I wonder what they'd do if I charged at them while carrying my sword ...?" 

Evie snerks and says, "Ever seen The Princess Bride? You know the scene where Indigo finally confronts the Six-Fingered Man for the first time? Yeah...that's what I see happening."

"Well it's Vegas... it won't be the first time somebody has done that I'm sure," Lya chuckles. "Afraid I don't have a card as Dad's the one usually doing the PR..." she grabs her Sharpie out of her pocket and flips over their cards to write her cell number on it for both Evie and Alex, "But this is a good way to get a hold of me." She gives a lazy salute and a smile. "Until Friday, guys."

Hitoshi stands and bows. "I too must be going. I am Lya's ride. I wish you a good evening. "


	4. A Plan Forms...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scions love it when a plan comes together...

"Okay, Armand Roget, just who the hell are you?" Alex asked himself. Dinner at Evie Cartwright's had ended with the decision to offer the Manada de Lobos a target - himself - on the premise that it was a little too convenient for a member of that gang to be attempting the armed robbery of a liquor store where Alex happened to be shopping.

The internet yielded its usual torrent of information. Apparently, Roget was somewhat of a celebrity in the day - the winner of a long-odds bet, Roget had taken his millions and invested them for long-term returns, as well as in civic efforts. He'd not only put up the namesake building under which Thomas Cardinelli had been buried, but contributed to political efforts. Whether that was out of a genuine sense of giving back to the community or buying a politician or three was debatable.

The construction company had been an older, family-run concern that had broken up in the 1990's, the sons had set their eyes on something other than pouring foundations and walking steel. If the grandfather or father had been involved with hastening Ragnarok, that information would be buried or lost. Call it a dead end for the moment, though Max Bayer over at the City Planning Commission should have blueprints for the Roget Building - a requirement for all commercial buildings after 9/11.

Back to Roget. He'd been big on bankrolling commercial development. Rumored to have ties to the Mafia, but that was said of most people with influence at City Hall. The property had been an office building by design, but more of a museum (mausoleum?) by the time of Roget's death. No heirs on record. No trust for the estate. Could an auction house have sold things off without realizing their significance, or even still have 'junk' in their warehouse and not know it? Worth checking on.

Alex glanced at the menubar clock. 3AM, and he wasn't tired in the least bit. It was convenient when one was self-employed and could set their own hours, but he still tried to keep a semblance of normal hours.

Just one more search. Cardinelli's family. His mortal family. There. Parents deceased. A younger brother and sister - although that was relative, as they'd both be pushing 80. Brother in a senior community, sister living at home. He'd call them later in the morning.

He shut everything down and stretched out on the couch. He could grab a shower at the gym in the morning ... Alex woke to a ringing phone. "North."

"Mr. North, this is Officer Anderson," Saul said. "I'm just checking up on you as a courtesy. You're doing okay?"

"A little stiff," Alex allowed. "No bruising, no problems breathing. Lucky for me, I guess."

"Prepared is better than lucky," Saul advises. "Even street punks are packing serious heat."

"I think we've both heard enough stories on that count," Alex said. "I appreciate the call, Officer Anderson."

"How was your dinner date?"

"Interesting."

"No luck, eh?"

"Wasn't that kind of date."

Saul chuckled. North wasn't one of the boys-in-blue, but he was part of the law enforcement community, and subject to a measure of coarse humor. "Maybe next time you'll get lucky."

Alex winced. Anderson clearly didn't know his 'date' was Evie Cartwright. And that 'next time' was going to be with Lya's bandmates.

"Hope springs eternal," he said, rolling his eyes.

Regardless of his plans, Alex needed to go home and get a change of clothes. In the end, he wound up taking a cab to get there, as someone had spiked two of his tires. He hadn't thought holding the one gang member back would be such a grave offense to the gang's image, but that didn't preclude prompting from a scion on the other side.

His home hadn't been spared, either. It was in a nice neighborhood, but someone had slipped a dead rat into his mailbox. Lovely. At least there wasn't a scrawled note reading, 'Death to the Son of Tyr' pinned to it.

The garbage bag of wine-stained clothes from the other night couldn't go into the wash just yet. His rumpled suit would go to the dry cleaners. Since he hadn't gone to the gym, a quick shower was in order. He couldn't help but examine where he'd been shot. There wasn't even a bruise to show he'd been injured at all. He scraped the stubble off his chin, brushed his teeth, the usual ablutions. He settled on a tuxedo, but with an aviator's leather jacket instead of the formal one. His Bates dress uniform shoes would do nicely. Wraparound shades. His West Point ring. Alex considered whether or not to take a sidearm; he held a concealed-carry license, after all. No, best to avoid any suggestion that he was expecting a fight ...

~~~

After the meeting at Officer Cartwright's place, and after dropping Lya off at her place, Hitoshi makes some calls once he's home. His housemate Matt is there with his boyfriend. They both wave. Hitoshi nods back. He had no problem with Matt and Kyle. they stuck to themselves, and Matt was always on time with his rent check. 

The first one is to his Mother. 

"Umm hey mom." He says a bit meekly. "Yes, yes I DO need a favor. Yes, I do remember the earlier conversation last night. yes.. yes. Look, all I am saying is give me a weeks notice before you go making plans. I am not against having dinner with you, I just need to know a week in advance." Hitoshi sighs and listens as his mother once again chews him out. "Fine mom, I'll have dinner with you and that nice lady you found. Yes, next Wednesday works for me... Yes mom, yes mom.... Mom, will you be quiet for one moment?!" Hitoshi looses it and roars at his mom. Inside he regrets it.

"Look mom, this is a business call. Do you still need a gig for that Friday show next week? Yes, I AM talking about the Furies. Look, you were the one wanting to draw in a younger crowd to the casino. Go online and look at how popular Punk rock is right now with the eighteen to twenty seven group. Go ahead, I'll wait." 

Hitoshi waits and rolls his eyes. "So that will be the Friday Jam next week. Yes mom. Oh, umm By the way, can we use the Limo again?" He holds the phone away from his head suddenly as his mom yet again reads him the riot act. "Mom, The Furies are NOT the first ones to have trashed the Limo, and you know it. Stop trying to guilt trip me, it won't work. Can we get the Limo or not? Thank you. Now, I must go, I love you, Bye." 

He closes the phone and sighs. Matt walsk over. "Whats wrong Toshi?"

"Setting up a gig at the Casino for the band. Having to deal with mom. It all sucks." He wasn't about to say "Oh yea, and the world may actually be ending."

Matt frowns and walks over to the Minibar. "So, Rum and Coke, or Mojito?"

Hitoshi thinks for a moment. "You know what, hit me with the Mojito."  
It's well after you retire for the night. Your dreams are a bit unusual, given recent events, but there's nothing prophetic or overtly troubling about them.

A loud crunch comes from outside. There's the sound of a revving engine, tires spinning as they search for traction, then a squeal as someone peels out and roars away down the street.

Matt is in the hallway, holding a baseball bat and not looking all that threatening. "What the hell, Hitoshi?" 

"Stay back," you warn. You have your sword to hand, and carefully glance out from the edge of the window.

Someone drove onto the front lawn, turned a couple of donuts, then drove off. The mailbox post is knocked over, and the lawn is a mess. Hitoshi frowns then head into his room and starts pulling on clothes, if they knew where he lived then they could easily find Lya . 

"Matt, I won't lie to you. The last night Lya and I ran across the lobos at the diner downtown. They were looking to start shit. Luckily a cop was there and the band showed up. I think we stopped a robbery or a shakedown. However, they said they'd get payback." 

He walk over to the mirror and puts a magnetic key against a hidden latch in the frame. Sliding the mirror to the side to reveal a safe he palms the lock and opens it to reveal stacks of money, passports, and other keep sakes. Reaching inside he pulls out 500 dollars.

"I want you and kyle to take that vacation you've been saving up for. It's on me, but you need to leave tonight." He pulls out his cell phone and dials Lya as he closes the safe and slides the mirror back. They lock with a "click" 

"Come on Lya, pick up." Glancing over he waves the small stack of bills at Matt.

Hitoshi collects a Gym bag and throws a few sets of clothes into it. "We will be. I'll give Lya your regards. I'm headed over there now just to make sure she will be okay. The band can'r handle" He smiles and heads into the garage. He watches the door as it opens to make sure it's clear then peels out in the Camaro taking the long way around and cutting down side streets in case the Lobos were tailing him.

~~~

“You're kidding me... real End of Days shit?" exclaims Toxic as she grabs a beer off the table of their booth in the back of The Dive. The sounds of driving bass and mosh pits echo around them as Lya does her best to explain what she learned after dinner with the other Scions.

"Effing Norse, always ruining everything with their utter lack of humor," moans Phoebe as she leans back in the booth and puts her boots up on the table. "I appreciate a good fight just as much as they do, but come on!"

"Tell me about it," agrees Lya as she lays her head in Orithia's lap and dangles her feet off the edge of the seat. "Such a buzzkill for the planet, right?"

"Look on the bright side, guys," Orithia adds as she strokes Lya's hair. "At least it's going to be one hell of a fight, right? When's the last time we were really challenged?"

"She's got a point," agrees Klepto before chugging a beer and setting it on the table with a burp. "So we're going to guard this Alex guy in the hopes that we can lure the Lobos out again for another try at him? I don't like leaving you unguarded, Lya, and I'm sure your dad wouldn't like it either. What if one of those creeps tries something while we're busy with him?"

"Let them try," snarls Toxic as she grips the edge of the table tight. "I still owe that asshole who slapped my ass and I'd be more than happy to take it out on his entire gang. I'll stay with Lya while you guys guard Alex. We wouldn't want to ruin things with one of them recognizing me, anyway."

"Promise me you guys won't destroy the place... or the limo," begs Lya as she blindly grabs for another beer off the table. "I'm still getting shit from Hitoshi because of last time, you know."

"Hey that was just us having fun...this is going to be business," Phoebe replies. "If things get damaged... is it really important when you consider the bigger picture of saving the world?"

"Oh Gods..." Lya moans.

"Alex is a little clean-cut, isn't he?" laughs Klepto. "He's gonna stick out like a sore thumb, unless you're going to ask that we dress like women who trade away their dignity by catering to men who don't see further than dress size and bust measurement."

“Well we don't want to change his look too much or else the assassins won't even recognize him," Lya warns. "We don't want you guys to be so uncomfortable that you stand out too much either though," she groans before taking a gulp from her beer.

"Wait... what if you guys dressed like high rollers at the casino instead of...you know... " she waves her beer at Klepto, "what you said. Then you'd all be equals who just want to gamble and party, right?"

"Full dress leather?" Phoebe grins. "I can do that."

“Just remember to not look like you're ready to kick someone's ass, ok? They're never going to try for this guy if we're too consp...conspic...(burp)...obvious." 

Lya's pocket suddenly begins to vibrate and she gestures to Toxic to grab her hand and help her sit up while she fumbles with her cell phone. "God damn headrush..." she mutters before sliding open her phone on the third ring.

"What's up, Hitoshi? Figured a party animal like yourself would be asleep by now." Klepto snorts as Lya grins and waves at her to be quiet so she can hear. "Wait, slow down... what happened with the car?"

"Some asshole destroyed our yard and our mailbox with a car tonight," warns Hitoshi. "If they know where I live, then they probably know where you live too. You need to be careful, Lya."

"Good thing I'm not home then," she chuckled. "I'm surrounded by four of the best bodyguards a mortal could wish for, Hitoshi... if those asshole Lobos want to try anything we'll be ready."

Toxic stiffens at Lya's words and slams her fist on the table. "Damn straight we'll be ready for them."

"You know what they say," Orithia smiles coldly. "If you're going to pull on a tiger's tail, you'd better have a plan for dealing with the teeth."

“In the meantime... " Lya starts as she chews her lip in thought, "maybe I should check out my apartment and make sure they didn't sack the place... maybe throw together a Go Bag so I can stay away until things get settled." She looks to Orithia and Toxic. "You girls up for coming upstairs with me to check it out? The rest of you keep an eye out down here in case they come in and try and start something."

"No one is that stupid. At least I hope not. An attack on a daughter of Dionysus in what is pretty much a modern-day temple," Phoebe frowns. "Oh, wait. I've actually seen some heroes of old who were that stupid."

"You mean Jerk-ules?" Toxic's eyes flash with mock innocence.

"More like Durrr -cules," Phoebe sneered. "Not the brightest of lamps. Nice ass, though."

The apartment is safe, though faint scratches around the deadbolt and doorknob suggest that someone may have picked (or tried to) the lock. Most likely the latter, as the door and bolt are still securely closed.

Both Orithia and Toxic produce collapsible batons and shake them open with a metallic ch-chak.

Lya unlock the door and Toxic is first through...  
“Oh my Goddess, what did they do to this place!" Toxic exclaims, causing Lya to rush through the door in a panic to see her apartment just as she left it. 

"Very funny...very funny..." Lya mumbles as she stomps past the two snickering Amazons to grab her backpack from under her couch.

"I'm going to throw a bag together just in case... then if the coast is clear I've got to get some rest before everything hits the fan tonight." She grabs some clothes off the back of the couch, sniffs them, then shrugs before stuffing them in the bag along with a pack of cigarettes, some toiletries, some of their CDs, a few band photographs, and 3 bottles of liquor. "You guys feel free to make yourselves at home if you want. There's beer in the fridge and I've got some new games on the PS3," Lya calls out to the others.

"God of War? Really, Lya?" Orithia replies with a laugh as she picks up one of the cases off of the coffee table. "What would your father think?"

"That irony is a wonderful thing..." she walks back into the living room and sets a now full backpack down by the couch. "Especially when you're not involved." Lya flops down on the couch with a yawn before she lies down with her feet on Orithia's lap.

"Come on, Orithia... I won't tell if you won't," laughs Toxic as she walks out of the kitchen with two beers. "We can switch off between levels."

"Okay...okay...let me just text the others and let them know we're clear. " Orithia caves.

"Dibs on Dur-cules!" exclaims Toxic.  
About 30 minutes later Hitoshi pulls up. Getting out of his car he grabs the gym bag, masamune, and the band's favorite take out which. Figuring on staying up all night also meant figuring out that he and whoever was up would get hungry. Shaking out his keys, he unlocked the back door to the dive bar and stepped inside pulling it quickly closed behind him and throwing the latch closed. The scrape of a heel on the floor behind him let him know someone was there. "Just me." He says. 

A snort issues from the dimness. "I knew it was you, only one person in this town wears that japanese perfume you call cologne. " 

Hitoshi chuckles and shrugs before handing off the bag of food. "Brought you ladies something. Where's Lya?" He asks moving into the bar proper.

"She passed out upstairs with Toxic and Orithia once everything checked out," Phoebe answers before taking a big sniff from the bag. "Mmmn...Thai food. Klepto and I were going to wait till the bar closed so we can secure the area before we head up, so save some for us, kay?" She hands the bag back to Hitoshi. "You wouldn't want us grumpy after a hard day's work, right?" she winks.

Hitoshi grins. "No, I really don't want that. I'd much rather you ladies be mad at the Lobos. I don't think I can take on all of you, and I don't want to even try... unless it's at Poker." He pulls a deck of cards out of an inside pocket and fans them out with a flourish. He tilts his head. "Go on, the food will still be here. I won't start eating without you."

"You're just lucky she's the scion of Dionysus and not Hermes," Phoebe jokes as she waves over her shoulder and walks back into the bar. 

Hitoshi chuckles. "And I thank my Lucky stars every damn night." He heads into the bar and sets the food down. "Hey Michelle, Crack me a cold one would you? Light please. I'm going to head up and check on Lya. Be right back down." He says recognizing tonight's bartender. He slides her a 20$ and takes the steps to Lya's apartment two at a time. He slides his key into the lock and opens the door quietly. "Hey, It's Hitoshi, I'm coming in." He says softly. He closes the door behind him and locks it again before stepping into the Living room.

"Good thing too, or I'd have had your kidneys," whispers Toxic from behind Hitoshi as she retracts her baton. "You brought food though... so I'll forgive you... this time." She grabs the paper bag with her other hand and heads back into the kitchen. "It's ok, Orithia," she says to the blonde Amazon crouched protectively in front of Lya as she sleeps fitfully on the couch.

"Geesh, Hitoshi... give somebody a chance to answer the door before you come in," warns Orithia as she puts her baton away. "Especially after putting us on alert with that phone call, and all."

Hitoshi Snorts. "I knew you were back there the minute I closed the door, Toxic. Its why I said something in the first place." He leans against the wall and takes his shoes off, placing them by the door before following Toxic into the kitchen.

"Also, I'm the only other person to have a key. That should tell you enough who it was, but whatever, I could have just knocked, but I was afraid I'd wake her up." He shrugs. "Anyways I can to check on sleeping beauty there and bring you gals some food for the long haul."

He talks softly as he walks and pauses by the couch to gently pull a light blanket over Lya as she sleeps before stepping into the kitchen proper. "Klepto and Pheobe are closing up downstairs, I got a beer waiting on me downstairs, and a deck of cards, and we have food. I'm in this for the night."

"Could you guys get along long enough for me to sleep?" mutters Lya as she rolls over and sits up with a rub of her eyes. "Hey Hitoshi..." she mumbles as she runs her fingers through her hair. "...is that Thai food?"

An hour later the bar has closed and Lya, Hitoshi and the Furies are all sitting around the coffee table eating out of take-out boxes. "All right... so everybody but Toxic rides with Alex as he enters the casino. Say the attempted hit happens and they catch the guy... what then? We're wanting to interrogate the guy, right?"

"I could always question him with my fists in the back alley," offers Klepto before grabbing a box of pad thai. 

"As much as I prefer simplicity, that might leave us a little too out in the open," warns Lya. "I'm thinking that you guys take him through the back alley and we take him in the back door of the casino where we question him in the security station of the casino. What do you think, Hitoshi? Think with a little buttering up they'd let us borrow their room for a bit? That way we can also get him out of the cops way when they come."

Hitoshi looks up with a mouthful of Pad Thai halfway in his mouth. He swallows and leans back against the kitchen counter. 

"Umm yea, no, we don't even have to ask. Remember the steam and maintenance tunnels we used to sneak through as teens? Yea well I have a key to them that I managed to snag. I know a room way back down one of the tunnels where nobody goes. Door's thick enough to muffle sound, and the noise from the machine room down the hall will cover any sound the guy makes."

He shoves more Pad Thai into his mouth suddenly ravenous, chewing three times before swallowing.

"My question is do any of you gals know how to do proper torture? Beating the guy up is not the way to go. That just breaks the body. Torture is about breaking the mind while leaving the body relatively intact. Repeatedly punching the guy isn't going to work for long."

He Drains his beer in one go and pulls another one from a small cooler he had gotten from his car and pops it open with the nearby churchkey as he tilts his head back and forth as if debating something. Suddenly he runs a hand through his hair and sucks in a breath. Then he starts talking faster, like he just wants to get it all out.

"Look, if you can get the guy down to the room, I can take care of the rest, but no questions asked. This shit is gonna be scary. Mind you I don't want to do it, but hey we all gotta bite the bullet sometime and do things we don't like."

He looks at Lya and the rest of the Furies waiting for their answer.

"What about letting someone do something that they do like?" asks Klepto with a smirk as she cracks her knuckles.

Lya chuckles. "I know you're eager, Klepto... but if Hitoshi thinks his idea will work, we'll give it a shot. All else fails we can still let you guys at him." She turns to Hitoshi. "I'm not going to let you go in there alone, though. Besides... I always wanted to play the Good Cop."

Hitoshi shrugs. "You want to be good cop, I'm okay with that." He takes a swig of his beer. "I agree that the girls should be back up. However, don't beat him up so much that he dies from internal injury or shock. I've seen the results of what you gals can do when you don't hold back. Hospitalization is great, murder is not." He grins and hold out his beer. "But beer sure to have fun whatever happens. "

"We'll make sure he can still talk, Hitoshi, don't worry," replies Phoebe.

"I miss the old days..." laments Toxic as she grabs a beer. "Things were much simpler back then."

"But much more exciting now, right?" Lya winks and grabs her own beer and holds it up for a toast. "Here's to good friends and exciting times!"


	5. The Sons of Tyr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex North learns he's not the only son of Tyr...

 The next morning, Evie arrives at work bright and early, far earlier than she actually needs to be there. But, she's eager to get started. The whole affair is overwhelming, terrifying....and exciting. Oh, she's had plenty of mysteries to work on as a detective over the years, but nothing like this. Nothing that had so much hinging upon success. She feels the burden of her role acutely, but she is not bothered by it. Instead, it fuels her.  
  
She sits down at her computer and starts searching the police records. Unfortunately, whether something that old has been scanned into the system is hit or miss. Backlogging old reports into the data system is something that gets done, but it's generally a job that sits on the back burner and gets done in between newer assignments. As it turns out, the records from the year of Cardinelli's disappearance have not yet been entered. So, that means a trip down to the archives.  
  
Just as she is standing up from her chair, she hears a familiar voice, "Hey, nerd! Whatcha doing?"  
  
Saul is standing there, smiling and holding out an extra cup of coffee to her. Grinning, she accepts it and sips, "Getting ready to head down to the archives. What's up for you, today?"  
  
"Eh, the usual. I get to patrol downtown, today. Fun, fun!" he falls into step beside her as they make their way to the basement where all the old records are kept. "Did you get my text about Alex?"  
  
"Yeah, I did. Damn lucky the man forgot to take off his vest before leaving the office. It would've been a shame to lose him," Evie says as she holds a door open for Saul.  
  
"Crazy stuff. He seemed okay. I'll probably swing by his office before I leave, just to make sure, though," he says. As the two of them descend down a set of stairs, Saul cheerfully continues, "So, guess who actually has Saturday night off?"  
  
"Get out of here! How many chickens did you have to sacrifice to manage that?"  
  
"Twelve. Plus a goat. I think it was the goat that pushed me over," he grins. "So, you **do**  owe me a beer. I was thinking that, instead of that, we could go see a movie. You want to go see Turtles?"  
  
"I'd love to but, I have so much work..." Evie begins, shaking her head.  
  
As they reach the bottom of the stairs, Saul gently grabs her head. One hand cups the back of her noggin while the other covers her mouth. "Yes, Saul, I would love to stop working for one night and go to a movie!" he says in a silly falsetto, all the while nodding her head for her.  
  
She licks his palm.  
  
"Ewwww!" he jerks his hand away and wipes it on his shirt. Throwing her a crooked grin, Saul says, "You know, in some cultures, that would mean that we are married."  
  
The detective snerks once, then begins to chortle, then falls into a full-fledged laugh. She and Saul have known each other for well over a decade, and it shows. They begin walking, again, towards the stacks.  
  
"Come on," Saul says, poking his friend in the shoulder. "In all seriousness, you work too hard. Take a night off. Come to the movies with me."  
  
"Okay, look....I can't promise anything. But, yeah. Tentatively. If nothing comes up," she stops in front of the proper section for the records she needs and smiles at Saul.  
  
"Good enough!" Saul claps her on the shoulder before glancing at his watch. "It's time for me to get on the road. Good luck, Evie."  
  
"Be safe out there!" she waves good-bye to him as he turns to leave. She then turns her attention to the records. "So, Officer Cardinelli....let's see what you were doing..."

    It takes nearly an hour (and wading through dusty file boxes) to find the relevant records. There it is. Badge 5849, Cardinelli, Officer Thomas. The desk sergeant had made an entry about flash flood warnings, and several cars reported in, establishing a safety cordon. Cardinelli was listed as driving south on I-15, checking for stranded motorists. Lost in a flash flood; it all made sense.

  
   But it felt wrong. On an impulse, Evie looked for the report that had to be there, an inquiry into the death/disappearance of an officer. They'd found his car, the driver's side door torn off, and half-buried in mud in a culvert.  
  
   There. A routine inspection of the patrol car, not very different than any accident report. Cracked windshield, compressed front bumper, dented fender, crumpled hood. Driver's side door missing. Inventory of vehicle, everything accounted for, including the shotgun in the between-seat bracket.  
  
   Photos of the damage, and the same instinctive grasp of the situation welled up within her. It was worse than she'd initially thought. Someone (a very large someone, at that) had basically taken a hit from the patrol car, smashed the hood, and knocked it off the road. The door had been torn off. Cardinelli had emerged, far from helpless, and been shot for his efforts. When that didn't stop him, he had been felled by the blow to his head.  
  
   Not by a pipe, crowbar, or baseball bat, but a warhammer. Evie could see how the pointed end of such a weapon could be mistaken for the business end of a prybar. Medieval weapons simply weren't first on the list when cause-of-death was being determined.  
  
   There had been no body, so no autopsy - a missing, presumed dead and a nameplate added to the memorial wall. The names and addresses of his relatives, which would be woefully out of date - it was unlikely Cardinelli's parents were alive, for example, but any sibilings might still be accessible ...

 

Evie jots down the information for any relatives that may still be alive. She carefully replaces all of the files to their nooks, knocks the dust off of herself and heads back to her desk. She then begins the task of tracking them down to see where they may be.  
  
_Time for some interviews,_  she thinks as she quickly types searches into her computer.

  _SEARCH PARAMETERS_

_Cardinelli, Officer Thomas, next-of-kin_  
  
_SEARCHING ...  
_  
 _Father, Franklin James Cardinelli, (1912 - 1997)_  
 _Mother, Theresa Dell'Osso Cardinelli (1914 - 1999)_  
 _Brother, Nicholas Anthony Cardinelli (b.1932)_  
 _Sister, Stephanie Marie Newell (b. 1934)_  
  
Evie scribbled down the addresses. The brother's address was an assisted-living facility; the sister's address, a home across town.

 Grabbing her car keys with one hand, she shuts down her computer with the other. As she stands, she finishes off the last dredges of the coffee that Saul had given her. It's now cold, bitter and pretty darned disgusting. She pulls a face and tosses the cup in the trash on her way out.

  
As she walks to her car, she remembers that she has early birthday presents for Ian, courtesy of Lya. She pulls out her phone and calls, but it is directed to his voicemail. No doubt he's in class, at the moment.  
  
"Hey, Ian. It's me. Drop by my apartment tonight, if you can. I got something for you," she smiles as she leaves her brief message. There is a little skip in her step as she walks. The thought of him being so surprised and happy makes her happy, as well.  
  
Plopping into her old Camry, she rolls down the windows and starts her journey to Stephanie Newell's home. Her plan is to talk to both siblings, but she can hit the assisted living facility on her way back to either HQ or her own home, depending on how long all of this takes.

    The Newell home is a pleasant ranch-house design, basking in the mid-morning sun, though you can hear the AC unit whirring away. The front door is open, with a glass storm door and screen inset allowing you a view inside the home.

  
   An older man waves dismissively at the television. "Lower, you nincompoop! Lower!"  
  
   A harsh buzz and a murmur of audience disappointment lets you know he's watching  _The Price is Right_  or another game show.  
  
   "Hmph! Told you!" he laughs. He sees Evie standing at the door. "Help you, Miss?"

 

"Good morning, sir. I'm Detective Evelyn Cartwright with the Las Vegas Police Department. I was wondering if I might have a word with Mrs. Newell," Evie smiles as she speaks and makes sure that her stance is open, relaxed and non-threatening. You never know how people are going to react to a police officer showing up on their doorstep, and she wants to make it clear that she's not there to make any trouble. As the man approaches the door, she holds up her badge for him to see."This is in regard to her brother, Thomas Cardinelli."

    "Tommy? He was a good troop. If you finally found his body, God rest his soul, I'm not sure Stephanie needs to see it," Newell says quietly. "Please, Detective. Come in. You want some ice water? Iced tea?"

  
   Hearing voices, Stephanie Newell comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. She is slender and moves gracefully. Despite silver hair and a fan of wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, her age does not appear to lay heavily upon her.  
  
   "Michael? We have a visitor?" she smiles. "I'm afraid we're not interested in a reverse mortgage."  
  
   "Dear, this is Detective Cartwright. She wanted to talk to you about Tommy."  
  
   "I see," she says quietly. She folds the towel, briefly returning to the kitchen to set it aside, then composes herself and takes a seat at the dining room table. "Please, Detective, have a seat. Tell me what I can do for you."  


"Thank you, sir. A bit of tea would be lovely. It was a dusty drive over," she smiles in thanks as she takes a seat at the dining room table.  
  
Evie turns her eyes to Mrs. Newell. This part is never easy. Granted, most of the the cases that she works on are terribly old and the people she talks to have long ago come to terms with the fact that their loved one is gone. However, it can often stir up old emotions, reopening old wounds.  
  
Softly, she begins, "Ma'am, we found Thomas' body a couple of days ago. Back when he disappeared, it was assumed that he was caught in the flood and lost. However, there is evidence that that may not have been the case. There were bullet holes in his blues."  
  
She pauses as Mr. Newell sets down a cold glass of tea in front of her, "Thank you, sir." She takes a sip and continues.  
  
"I'm investigating to see if I can figure out what really happened. Unfortunately, the case is so old that there's not much in the way of physical evidence, anymore. So, I was wondering if you could tell me about Thomas. Do you remember what he was working on, at the time? Did he ever mention any troubles that seemed out of the ordinary?"

     "You're saying he was  _shot_?" Stephanie stifles a gasp. "Why would anyone want to do that to Tommy?"

  
    Her brow furrows as she combs through her memory for the answers to your questions.  
  
    "My brother took his job seriously. Mom and Dad were so proud of him. Out of the ordinary ..." she muses. "Just the one time, really. He was sitting on the porch one morning, his patrol car at the curb. He ... looked tired. Dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn't slept. Dirty, unshaven. Smelled like he'd been at a fire.  
  
     _"Tommy?"  
_  
     _"Hey, little sister," Thomas said. "Just sitting here. Enjoying the quiet."  
_  
     _"You look ...  awful. And you smell," Stephanie frowned.  
_  
     _"Sorry. Long night. Bad one."  
_  
     _"Tommy, you're scaring me."  
_  
     _"There's good reason to be scared," Thomas said. There was a solemn tone to his words that gave them a quiet menace. "There's evil in the world, little sister. And I'm not sure I'm strong enough to ..."  
_  
     _"Thomas Cardinelli, are you drunk?" Stephanie asked harshly. It was the only thing she could think of that would make her brother this morose, this dark.  
_  
     _"No, I'm not drunk, Stephanie," her brother told her. "Tired. Learned something I'd probably be happier not knowing. Can't change it though."  
_  
     _"Do you need to talk about it?"  
_  
     _"Justice isn't just about punishing the guilty. It's about protecting the innocent," Thomas said. "Sorry. I'm rambling. It's ... I have a responsibility, Steph. I hope I'm up to it."  
_  
     _"Come inside, I'll make some coffee. You can use the shower, if you want ..."  
_  
     _"No. I've got to go. See you at Mom & Dad's for Sunday dinner?"_  
  
   "... and that's the only time he mentioned any of it," Stephanie tells you. 

 Evie listens quietly as Mrs. Newell speaks. In all actuality, her words don't surprise the detective. She had already known that Thomas was a scion, so an encounter like this makes sense, to her. But, what of the timing?

  
_So, Tyr shows up and tells Thomas something, maybe. Is it revealed that he is a scion or did he already know that and he simply found out about whatever is going on?_  
  
_Thomas knew something, obviously. Maybe he got too close to whatever it was and this was the enemy's way of saying "sod off." A handful of decades is the blink of an eye to a god or maybe even some of their agents. This isn't a long con...not by their measures._  
  
_...a fire....a fire....I'll have to check the records and see if there were any major fires the year he disappeared._  
  
The detective's brow furrows and she idly plays with the condensation on the outside of her tea as she thinks, "Had Thomas had any run-ins with organized criminals, that you know of? Anyone that may have held a grudge against him?"  
  
Though Evie is not sure that any information she may get from those two questions will be relevant, there's no point in not being thorough.

    "Organized crime?" Stephanie shakes her head. "No. Everyone knew Tommy was a straight arrow. There would be no point in asking him to do a favor, or paying him to look the other way - he wouldn't do it."

  
   Evie remembers Alex saying something about his chopper getting shot down and having to make his way across hostile territory. Did Tyr require his children to undertake an ordeal, a testing-out? She filed that away for later inquiry.

 Evie smiles apologetically and nods, "That's good to know. But, I wasn't thinking that he accepted bribes or anything of that nature. I was thinking more along the lines of him interfering with criminal activity to the point where someone took notice of him, specifically, as opposed to the police in general and decided to remove him as an obstacle."

    "I doubt that was the case," Stephanie says. "Like I said, my older brother was a straight arrow, but he wasn't the kind of man who went looking to start a fight. If you brought it to his doorstep, that's something else. He got _that_  from Dad."

_So, let's see,_  Evie thinks.  _Check about fires, ask Alex about trials, no overt connections to trouble with criminals....what else?_

  
Elbows resting on the table, she taps her chin thoughtfully. Finally, she says, "Would you happen to still have any items of Thomas'? I'm assuming that all of his things would've been sorted after he was pronounced deceased. But....you never know. He may have written something, left some sort of obscure clue about what was happening in his life at that time..."  
  
She spreads her hands and smiles, "I know I'm grasping at straws, here. But, that's the way most investigations start. Until I find something that I can firmly grab and run with, I have to consider every possibility."  
  
Evie notes to herself that she should also talk to any police officers that he was close to. More may have been shared between brothers-in-arms, so to speak. Family, Thomas may have not confided in in order to shield them.

    "No. No, I'm afraid not," Stephanie says. "And, then, a year later, he was gone. I'd almost like to believe the story that he was swept away in a flash flood, perhaps saving someone's life, because that was the brother I remember. If he was murdered, I hope to God you find who was responsible, but I don't need to know the details."

  
   There's an uncomfortable silence. It's hard to end a conversation on that kind of note.  
  
   "Come on, Detective, I'll show you out. I might as well see if the mail's here," Mike Newell tells you.  
  
   He holds the door open for you.  
  
   "Please follow me to the garage, Detective. Don't say anything."  
  
   Newell enters the garage from an adjacent door. He goes to his workbench and pulls out the second drawer down, then fumbles beneath it before producing a legal-sized envelope, yellowed with age.   
  
   "Thomas gave this to me. Must have been a week or two after he spoke to Stephanie on the porch," Newell tells you. "Said it involved family, to keep it secret, but that, one day, I might want to give it to my wife. Kinda scared the poop out of me, sounded just as ominous as what he said to Stephanie. I just kind of forgot about it. Her folks died, I didn't see any point in dragging some skeleton out of the closet.  
  
   "You said you were looking for something, an obscure clue, and this may be it. Or it may be nothing. But, as Stephanie said, I'm not sure I need to know the details. I hope you find the people responsible, Detective, even if it's just to lay Tommy's ghost. You have a good day."  
  
   Newell ambles back out towards the mailbox.  
  
   "Nothing. Ah, well."

 

As she holds the envelope, she glances down at it, wondering what could be in there. She sighs and adds, "If he was murdered, there's a good chance that whoever did it is also long gone."  
  
_Whether or not it is true, that is what I am going to tell these good people,_ she thinks.  
  
Before Mr. Newell walks out of the door, she gently stops him with soft word, "I appreciate you and your wife helping me. I know that it's always hard when old wounds are reopened."  
  
"Thank you so much, Mr. Newell," Evie says. "I promise that I will do my best to find the truth of what happened."  
  
Evie waves to Mr. Newell as she gets into her car and pulls out of his driveway. She doesn't need to sit there in front of their house while she reads.  
  
Instead, she drives a ways down the road to a strip mall and parks way in the back, near the edge of the street where no one else tends to park. (Most folks don't like to walk that far.) She leaves the engine running and the AC on.  
  
With a small sigh of anticipation, she opens the envelope....

    The letter is about a page and a half, executed in the classic middle-American longhand of a bygone era.

  
    _Dearest Stephanie_  
  
     _Whether or not you are reading this because events have taken their own course, and we are facing the darkness and our last stand, or if you have been given this letter because Michael felt the time was right, perhaps because I am gone, or even dead.  
_  
  _I am thinking, of course, of that one morning where you found me on the front porch. I imagine I must have looked awful to you, and if I frightened you, I again offer my most sincere apologies._  
  
     _In short, I’d learned something that pretty much turned the world on its ear, and I will share these things with you now. They will doubtless sound strange and will be hard to accept, but I ask that you read through to the end before making any judgments.  
_  
     _I am only your half-brother, it seems.  
_  
     _Mom does not remember this herself. It was a summer’s eve, shortly before Mom & Dad were married. They were back in Kansas, visiting Nonno. As was proper in the day, they were sleeping in separate rooms - Dad was in the house, Mom in the small guest cottage out back.  
_  
     _That was when he came to her. My real father. In the twilight and with the daydreams of her pending wedding to hand, she wasn’t seeing clearly, and she didn’t object when his strong arms stole about her and they kissed. And she didn’t object when things progressed, and they made love beneath the stars and trees.  
_  
     _My real father. Tyr.  
_  
     _He’s what we call the Norse God of War. Like the ones we learned about in school. Odin. Thor. Loki. Which makes me something more than human, if I’m worthy.  
_  
     _And I will be tested, just as I had been the time you found me sitting on the porch. The End of All Things is coming, dear Sister. World War II, the whole ‘Communist’ thing we keep hearing about in the news, that’s just the tip of the iceberg.  
_  
     _I can’t help but see it the way I see my job. I’m here to catch the criminals and perhaps put one or two away, but I’m also here to serve and protect the innocent. People like you, and Michael, to whom I’m giving this letter.  
_  
  _I hope I’m wrong. I hope this isn’t my turn at praying in Gethsemane, or that if it is, I am able to help craft a better destiny than what the legends say we have in store._  
  
     _These are for you and Michael, and, if the fates are kind, your children. I may be the son of some Norse god, but you’re still my little sister._  
  
     _With All My Love, Tommy_  
  
    There’s a fan of EE Savings Bonds, long since matured. A quick mental calculation tells you Thomas put a month’s pay into it.

 Evie settles back into her seat and thinks. At first glance, this seems to be a dead-end, simply a good-bye letter to a loved one explaining that things are a lot weirder and more dangerous than either of them had ever thought. But.... _World War II_...if this is a long con, could what is happening now have something to do with what happened then? The world war was over by the time that Thomas as tapped as a scion, presumably, but that doesn't mean that whatever supernatural forces were in motion had stopped.

  
It's a long shot and it may be nothing at all. But, who knows? She won't know unless she starts looking. That's all right, though. Goose chases are all part of the investigation process. It's sort of like science...sometimes, it's just as good to know what something  _isn't._  
  
She sets the bonds aside, there being no question in her mind about what to do with them. They will be returned to Thomas' family. She'll just have to fabricate a good lie about where she found them since Mr. Newell gave her the envelope in confidence.  
  
_Funny, that. I'm spending all my time trying to find the truth and, yet, I'm spending an equal amount of time coming up with plausible lies to bury that truth, again,_  she snorts in mild amusement.  
  
She pulls out her phone and looks at the time. There is still plenty of time to get to the assisted living facility. She'll have to check with the front desk when she gets there to see if it's okay to speak with Mr. Cardinelli. It may be that his health won't allow him visitors.   
  
_I'll see when I get there,_  she puts the car into drive and pulls out of the strip mall.

    The Sunrise Assisted Living Community is an apartment complex catering to the needs of senior citizens with mobility issues, outpatient medical needs, or the various stages of dementia.

  
   "Can I help you, Ms. ...?"  
  
   "Detective Evie Cartwright, Las Vegas Police Department," you reply. "I'd like to see Nicholas Cardinelli, if I may?"  
  
   "Is there a problem, Detective?"  
  
   "We found the body of his brother, Thomas, who was thought to have been swept away by a flash flood while he was on patrol back in the 1950's," you inform the clerk. "He's not ... is he under care for dementia?"  
  
   "Oh, no. Sharp as a tack. Anne will show you to a family meeting space, and Nick will join you in a moment."  
  
   The family meeting space is off of the common area, a small sitting room looking out over the garden. A pair of couches flank a coffee table that is adorned with a vase of fresh flowers and a stack of 'coffee table' books on art and scenic locations.  
  
   "Here you go, Nick," says an orderly, holding open the door. Thomas' brother enters, walking with a slight limp and clearly dependent on a cane. "This is Detective Cartwright."  
  
   "Heard you the first time, y'know," Nick snaps back. "Got a bum knee, not bad hearing. Now scoot, while I talk to Ms. Cartwright."  
  
   Nick waits for the orderly to leave.  
  
   "Good Afternoon, Detective," he smiles. "Had a bad slip-and-fall some years back, and I'm not about to impose myself on my kids, or on my sister. Have you spoken to her, yet? Orderly said this was about Thomas."

 "Yes, sir," she answers, "Thomas' body was discovered a couple of days ago. You know, of course, that he was assumed lost during a flash flood. However, there is evidence that points to that not being the story. When we found him, he was still wearing his blues....and there were bullet holes in them. I'm trying to piece together what really happened."

  
She smiles apologetically and continues, "Being the brother of a trooper, I'm sure you know how this goes. With the case being so old, there's not much for me to go on, initially. So, I'm trying to learn everything that I can about Thomas and what he may have been working on before his disappearance."  
  
Leaning forward a bit, she rests her elbow on the chair's arm as she talks, "Thomas' reports from just before his disappearance seemed pretty routine. However, did he ever mention anything to you about work? Anything odd? Did he ever seem particularly stressed...well....more stressed than the job normally warrants?"  
  
_Ah! Perhaps I can hand off the bonds to Nick while I am here,_  she thinks.  _Easy enough to say that I found them when going through Thomas' old paperwork or some such._

    "You mean things like worrying about the End of the World?" Nick says quietly. "And not because he'd found Jesus. The messy Norse version."

 Evie's eyes widen slightly in surprise and delight. Thomas had talked to someone in his family! Fleetingly, she wonders if she will be able to do the same, though she does not dwell upon it. Now is not the time.

  
"Exactly," she answers. She lowers her voice but keeps her face neutral, the epitome if friendly professionalism. The last thing she wants to have happen is an orderly walk by, hear their conversation and assume that Nicholas isn't as sharp as they had thought.  
  
For a second, she struggles with the choice of whether to be frank. Did Nicholas think that Thomas was crazy, that it was all a figment of his imagination? Or, does he believe? If she's unlucky and Nicholas reports her to HQ as being loopy, she could lose her job. But...  
  
_...I can't pussyfoot around. If I lose my job, so be it. This is more important. I'll lose resources, but I can still work on this. I have money set aside. I'll do okay for a while._  
  
_I may not even live long enough to have to worry about it...._  
  
"There were other things surrounding his death that make it clear he died defending this world. Things that I can't put into a report. But, it seems that whatever Thomas was fighting...the wheels are still in motion. If he told you anything that might help me and some others fight this, I'd appreciate it."  
  
   "I didn't want to believe it," Nicholas says quietly. "But then I realized it's in Christian ... mythology? ... as well. The ultimate battle between good and evil. Armageddon. It's in cultures around the globe, and from different eras.

  
   "So either there was a lot of plagiarizing going on back in the day, or there's a reason for the commonalities. And it isn't space aliens."  
  
   "I still don't pretend to understand any of it, Detective, but every now and then you see something in the news. Some new extreme for human greed or violence. The gods Thomas talked about, no one remembers them. They're characters out of books for kids.  
  
   "It's like it's hiding in plain sight. One day, it's going to pop us right in the jaw, and we're going to be, 'Where did  _that_  come from?' even though it's been there all along."  
  
   Nicholas fishes inside his sweater and pulls out several pages of yellowed paper. Each page is filled with notes in a precise hand. While it's not the cursive of the letter Michael Newell showed you, you know it's Thomas Cardinelli's writing.  
  
   "Thomas gave me this. Said it was a copy, and that people on his side might be interested in the information if something happened to him," Nicholas tells you. "Said he was chasing down something on that Roget fellow. When they told us Thomas was dead, I expected to hear from someone. Nothing. Not even at the funeral.  
  
   "That scared me, and I put this in a lockbox for a long time. I mean, Thomas tells me he's the son of a god, an actual god, and someone had the moxie to take him out of the picture for good. Playing for all the marbles. So maybe it's time for a rematch."  
  
   The pages list several names, a woman and four men, including Armand Roget. A short paragraph lists biographical details and connections with others on the list. Addresses, license plates, assorted snippets of information.

 "Thank you, Mr. Cardinelli. Thank you so much! This will be a great help," Evie tucks the papers away in the pocket of the notebook she carries, eager to share this information with the others as soon as she can.

  
As she closes it, she sighs softly and says, "I'm sorry that it has taken so long for Thomas' battle to be addressed, and for you to learn more. But, I don't think that the battles of the gods quite work on the same timescale as they do for humans....and those of us born as half-god."  
  
Evie's brow furrows, "Sir, I would keep you in the loop but....I'm afraid that it might be dangerous for me to do that. I think that you deserve to know what is going on after losing your brother, but at the same time, I don't want to make you a target. I wouldn't put it past the enemies to kill you out of spite."  
  
"Right now, I think that I am still flying under the enemy's radar, but that probably won't last for long. I know that at least one of my team is already known and I don't know how much longer the rest of us can stay hidden. I don't want to attract attention to you."  
  
Evie flips open her notebook, again, and pulls out the envelope that Thomas had left for Stephanie. She hands it to Nicholas, "I can give you this, though. Thomas left it for Stephanie. Her husband gave it to me in secret when I talked to them earlier. Both of them expressed the desire to not know the truth, and I can respect that. But, this needs to be kept in your family." 

    Nicholas looks at the sheaf of bonds and does a quick mental calculation. "Stephanie's kids can use this more than I can. Thank you."

  
   "Whether or not the enemy knows about my family, and what comes of it, depends on the people on that list, probably. Though I remember reading that Roget fellow died recently."

 Evie nods, "Of course. I figured you would know best what to do with the bonds."

  
"Yeah," Evie settles back into her seat and nods. "Roget is how I found out about Thomas. You know that they are knocking down the Roget building, right? Well, Thomas' body was found under the building in a sarcophagus made of a single piece of meteoric iron with Poetic Edda written around the outside. His hand had been cut off, making him an even greater representation of his father, Tyr."  
  
The detective laughs softly, "I have no idea how I could explain  _that_  in a police report. The good thing is, though, that no one else can explain it, either. So, I'll be just be added to the masses at HQ who are scratching their heads over it."  
  
"But, I think Thomas' death was....a warning?...a challenge?...the message was definitely meant for the gods and their children, though."  
  
Evie closes her notebook and stands, "Thank you for your help, Nicholas. You have no idea how much you've helped me."  
  
She reaches out to shake his hand. Though his skin is fine and papery, as elderly folks' skin often is, his grip is still strong and true, "You've helped me personally, too. I just found out about myself...my heritage....recently. It's good to know that I'm not crazy and I'm not alone."  
  
As she lets go of his hand, Evie says, "I won't come back here. I'm not going to risk putting you and yours in danger. You take care of yourself. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that Thomas' enemies are stopped."

    "I appreciate that, Detective," Nicholas tells you. "Perhaps, when this is all over, and if I'm still here chasing the nurses down the hall, you can visit and we'll raise a glass of orange juice - I'm pretty sure they don't serve mead in the dining room - in Thomas' name."

  
"Absolutely!" Evie gives the elderly gentleman a genuine, brilliant smile.   
  
She then turns and makes her way back to her car. She slides into the seat and opens the paper that Nicholas had given her. As she looks over what is written there, she pulls out her phone and dials Alex's number, intent on passing along this information.

    If not for your own experiences, you might be inclined to write Thomas' notes off as conspiracy-theory rambling, or, at the very least, sloppy police-work. Roget, of course, you know about. A relative nobody whose fortune had come from a long-odds bet at the Sands, but ended up having the ears of the city's movers and shakers. There had even been an unsuccessful Senate run in the 1960's.

  
   As for Roget's business, Thomas had put in quotes the word 'investments.'   
  
   Some of the other names are Vegas notables. James 'Sonny' Asano was a businessman who'd been in an interment camp, then, like Roget, catapulted onto the business scene. He was the reclusive CEO of the Miyako Hotel and Casino - though, like Roget and Cardinelli, he'd have to be in his eighties ... which might not mean much when one had ichor in their veins rather than blood.  
  
   Eleanor Kendall was a socialite who had inherited a small fortune from an industrialist father. Her fashion model looks had linked her with celebrities and power players, from Frank Sinatra to JFK. As far as you know, she's still prominent on the social circuit.  
  
   Douglas Maxwell is listed as a dealer at the Sands. As the Sands is no longer in existence, and it's unlikely that there's an eighty year-old man dealing blackjack, he will be more difficult to track down.  
  
   Thomas' notes about Edward McCain express doubts about the man being a Scion. Instead, he asks if McCain could be an Einjehar or a human bound by Jotunblut. You're not familiar with either word.  
  
   Last, and perhaps the most suspicious of the names, is someone simply named  _Wolf_. No address. No first name. No details. And a word that you aren't quite ready to cope with.  
  
   Demigod.  
  
   The phone rings several times before Alex North picks up. "Evie. What's up?"  
  
"Alex, hey. I've got some information," she pauses and considers whether or not to talk over the phone. In all likelihood, no one is listening to their conversations. At least, not yet. But....better safe than sorry. "Are you at your office?"  
  
   "Yeah, I am. Drop on by when you're able," Alex says.

 "Great. I'll see you later this afternoon. Bye!" she hangs up and fishes around for Hitoshi's number. Once she finds it, she calls. She's unsure whether he will be working at the garage or with Lya at this time of day. 

 The phone picks up after 3 rings, and the sound of shop work can be heard in the background. "Yes? Hitoshi speaking. Mike, hand me that five eights wrench. Thank you... Hello?" 

 "Hey, Hitoshi. Sorry to bother you at work. I've found some information, though. When would be a good time to catch up with you?" Evie says as she puts the key in the ignition and cranks up the car. "Also, when would be a good time to contact Lya?"

 Hitoshi slides out from under the car he's working on, and sits up. "Lya? I have no clue. She partied pretty hard last night. I don't know when she will be up, and She's a grumpy hungover. The kind you throw chocolate and coffee at from a safe distance. Myself? I got a lunch break in an hour. Was gonna head over to the Diner for a greasy burger. You are welcome to meet me there. I'll buy lunch."

 "Great! I could use some lunch, as well. I'm running off of a poptart and cup of coffee, both of which are starting to wear off. I'll meet you there," she cranks the car and sits, not going until she finishes talking. "I'll meet Alex after lunch to fill him in. I don't know when I'll catch up to Lya. I do want to talk to her before going to the casino, tonight, though."

  
"See you at the diner, then. Take care!" Evie says her farewell and hangs up, letting Hitoshi get back to work.   
  
She looks at the clock and realizes that she doesn't have a lot of time to kill before she meets Hitoshi. It'll take a bit to get back across town to the Diner. So, she has maybe 30 minutes to spare. Evie figures she can spend that time filling up her gas tank and maybe swinging by the grocery store to grab some fresh bread and a few cans of soup for home.  
  
Before she pulls out of the parking lot, she sends Alex a text.  _Meeting Hitoshi at the Diner for lunch to fill him in. Can I bring you some food when I come to the office?_

    Alex texts back.  _Whatever Rick has as the special will do. I'll call it in and tell them you're picking up for me. Thanks._

 Evie finally finishes up and rolls out of the parking lot, starting to make her way towards the Diner. She does stop to get gas and swings into a grocery store a few blocks away. It's a short trip as she quickly grabs such culinary delights as peanut butter, bread, some Campbell's Chunky Soup and that horrible yet oh-so-tasty Kraft Mac & Cheese. 

  
Yeah... _somebody_  is single and lives alone. Well, that and it's all stuff that can happily live in the back seat of her car all day without worrying about spoilage.  
  
Finally, she arrives at the Diner. She greets Maggie warmly and scans the restaurant, looking to see if she's beaten Hitoshi there.

 Hitoshi rides up moments later on his 1990 Star Stryker motorcycle. It's his baby, the one he was gifted when he first started working at the shop, the one he tore down and rebuilt himself. It was old but still had style with it's black frame, silver parts, and dark blue trim. Most of the time the band turned the heads, but when he rode that, people watched.

  
He pulls off his helmet and shakes out his hair, brushing it back with his fingers. He brushes off the highway dust and steps inside pulling off his shades.   
  
"Hey mags, One Coke with Lemon please."   
  
He looks over at Evie. "Good afternoon Officer Cartwright."

 "Good to see you, Hitoshi," Evie gestures to one of the booths, "This seat okay?"

  
When Hitoshi sits down across from her, she smiles and says, "How's your day going, so far?" She figures she can drop the information on him after they have ordered. 

 Hitoshi shrugs. "SSDD, Same Shit, Different Day." He leans back against the bench seat and cracks his back. "I'm used to it. So, what did you need?"

 "Heh," she chuckles softly. "I guess at least I've gotten a different flavor of shit, lately."

  
Evie opens her notebook and passes the notes that Thomas Cardinelli had written so long ago to Hitoshi, "It's that bit at the bottom that has me extra worried, the one about  _Wolf._ "  
  
When Maggie comes over to take their order, Evie orders something fast and easy. She still has two other team mates to visit before the end of the day, plus she still needs to get back to HQ and work a bit on the Davison case.  _Just because I've got an possible apocalypse on my hands doesn't mean I can ignore everything else...._

 Hitoshi scans through the notes. "umm hate to say this Officer Cartwright, but I can't read Cop shorthand." He slides the notes back. "yea, give me the cliff notes version. It gives us a reason to talk." 

  
Maggie place a big greasy burger with everything on it and fries down in front of me. "Mags, you always treat me well. Thank you."

    "Yes, it's that really tiny print we learn from having to use pocket-sized notebooks," Evie smiles. "All right, this came from Thomas' brother, who initially didn't know what to make of it. He didn't want to believe this end-of-the-world stuff was real.

   "The notes list five individuals and list things like addresses, important facts, that sort of thing. The list starts with Armand Roget, who had a rags-to-riches moment on a long-odds bet, and parlayed that into being an 'investment' person with influence at City Hall. He's dead.

   "Eleanor Kendall, you might know. Wealthy socialite, still very much a social butterfly with a dose of Lady Macbeth.

   "Douglas Maxwell, blackjack dealer at the Sands. Could still be around.

   "Edward McCain, no real details here, but Thomas wrote down the words, 'Einjehar' and 'Jotunblut' - which are clearly from my side of the fence, but I'm not familiar with them. Maybe Alex is.

   "And the one I'm worried about is this last one. Someone with the last name of Wolf, no address, facts that are crossed out or contradicted, and one word that I'm not sure I'm ready for.

   "Demigod."

  Hitoshi listens intently and is silent for a few moments.

  
"Demigods are supposed to be the half human children of the gods, but then that's us... Scions. Could there be another level above us? Something more powerful? Dad and I had a real big fight and I walked away before he could tell me much more than Hi, I'm your father, and I'm a god, and Oh, by the way, you will have to fight great evil beings in the near future. Most of the other Japanese gods have been Sympathetic to me so that's where I've gotten most of my info from."  
  
He sighs. "I know I should probably talk to dad with whats coming, but the question is will he even talk to me now."

 Evie shakes her head, "I have no idea. I was really hoping you would!"

  
She leans back in her seat and listens as Hitoshi tells of his father. After a couple minutes of thought, she says, "You know, I bet he would talk to you. I mean, let's face it....you're probably not his only son and you're probably not the only one to have stormed out on him. These guys are immortal. They have had all of time to experience just about every reaction one of their children could have."  
  
"I know exactly nothing about Hachiman, so I could be way off base, here, but...I bet he's been waiting for you to cool down before talking to you, again. Time to him and time to us...kinda different, you know?" she shrugs and smiles.

 Hitoshi scratches the back of his head. "Frankly I'm not even sure how to get a hold of him." He takes a few bites of his burger and chews thoughtfully before taking a sip of his soda and swallowing.

  
"What about you, can you get a hold of your dad?"

 "Pray...I guess?" she kind of laughs at that, shaking her head as she does so. "I was never religious. I've always only really, truly believed in what I can see...touch...hear. To find out that something that I previously thought was nothing more than a bunch of crap...Well, it's made me re-evaluate things."

 Hitoshi Shrugs. "What things? You mean god? If our Parents exist why wouldn't HE exist as well?"

 "Not the Christian god, specifically. Just gods in general. That they exist at all and what that means for reality as I know it."

"Ah, my misunderstanding then." Hitoshi says between bites. "So, what do you think we should do about the whole situation then? Right now everything looks like gang incidents so far. That’s not really supernatural per say."

 Evie chews on her lip, ignoring her food for the moment. She's hungry but, with her mind so preoccupied, food is mostly forgotten, "I don't think there's much we can do, legally, at this point. As you said, it's just the usual gang shenanigans and everything will have to be addressed within that definition."

  
"Maybe after tonight we'll have more to work with. Maybe someone will screw up, or show up, or..something. We need more to go on, both in what we show the world and what we do privately." She absently takes a bite of her sandwich, "I'm going to start digging into the same stuff that Thomas was and see what I can turn up there."  
  
"Have you heard anything in the past couple of days? Any rumblings on the street?"

 Hitoshi shakes his head. "The Gangs tend to avoid me like the Plague. I'm hazardous to their collective health." He gives a boyish grin that says it all. He wasnt going to admit to hospitalizing any of the members of various gangs, but anyone with half a brain could put two and two together. He wasn't exactly hiding it, and in every case the idiots attacked him first so it was always self defense or in defense of another.

 Evie chuckles. Officially, she has to remain objective and would never actually do anything outside of what the law defines as allowable behavior. Personally, well....she has exactly zero problems with gang members getting their heads knocked together by someone with more freedom than she. She's seen too many lives destroyed or mangled by what gangs do in her career.

  
"So, any plans for the band, tonight? They're going to play at the casino, right?"

 Hitoshi grins. "Well Lya doesn't know it yet, but she's about to meet her idols. I may have fibbed to her just a bit. She's not playing in an amateur event at the Casino. The Furies are opening for the Necromantics. Lya has been a fan of theirs for as long as I have known her. She's gonna Sqeeee." He takes a long slurp of his soda with a satisfied look on his face.

  
"Hey mags, How about some of that famous apple pie?" 

 "Coming right up, Hitoshi," Maggie smiles. "A la mode?"

 Evie laughs, the corners of her eyes crinkling merrily, "That's awesome! You know...I have no idea who the Necromantics are but....that is going to be a fantastic surprise for Lya."

  
"So, how did you wind up being their go-to guy, anyway? How'd you two meet?" she asks as she sips on her drink.

" Give us the works Mags."  
  
Hitoshi loved his pie.  
  
"Well It's a bit of a story but we have time. Mom and I had just recently moved here due to her getting a job. It was right when the Westview Grand had opened. In my evenings, I'd wander the strip, and once I got bored with them, I started wandering other places. I got into my fair share of trouble too. You can probably find a few reports on me for street fighting."  
  
He takes another sip of his soda.   
  
"You could say I had a chip on my shoulder. I didn't take shit from anybody. Gang members didn't like the Half Jap wandering their hoods, and so on more than one occasion they tried to solve the problem. the problem is they thought they could fight. I know at least five forms of martial arts thanks to my younger years in Japan. Suffice to say eventually they got the message and left me alone."   
  
Maggie arrives with two oversized slices of Apple pie covered in whipped cream with a side of vanilla ice cream. Hitoshi's eyes light up and he digs in, speaking between bites.  
  
"It was a month or so after I had gotten a job a Ray's Garage, I was out walking late and came across the aftermath of a gang party. Only it looked like the party was still going for a few members only one of them wasn't having fun if you know what I mean. I didn't like what I saw so I grabbed a piece of pipe and put boot to ass. When I was done, I left 6 gangers on the ground probably unable to walk again, and I had saved one scare girl. I'd like to say I have some remorse for what I did to those guys, but the honest thing is, I really don't give a fuck. Ever since then Lya and I have been friends. When she formed the band, I just sorta took it upon myself to be the Bodyguard."  
  
He shrugs. "That’s pretty much all there is."

 "Thank you," Evie says as she accepts a slice of pie. She happily pops a bite of deliciousness in her mouth as she listens quietly to Hitoshi's tale.

She shakes her head, thinking to herself,  _Fucking gangs_  but she says nothing. Instead, she simply says, "You're a good friend, Hitoshi. Lya's lucky to have you around."  
  
"So, you know martial arts? Maybe you'd like to join me sometime to spar. I'm afraid that I don't know as many techniques as you do, but I do know Aikido," she says. "It comes in handy when someone gets a whiff of bacon that they don't like." The corner of her mouth quirks upwards, a silent acknowledgement that not everyone appreciates the police.

 Hitoshi shakes his head. "I am sorry, but I only train alone. Not all of what I was taught was Non-lethal or Soft form, and I have combined many moves into fluid motions that I do without thinking. Something might happen."

He spits out a quick excuse. It was true, but what was more true was that he trained without his shirt on, and no one needed to see the scars and marks on his skin. He was self-conscious about them. So self-conscious in fact that he had bit the bullet and gone to a body artist and had his whole torso covered in giant tattoos in an attempt to hide the horrible disfiguring scars. Since he'd gotten the Scars before he became a Scion, they never quite healed properly, and though the artist did an amazing job, at the right angle, they could still be seen.

 "Fair enough," Evie replies, unfazed by this. "Most of what I know is non-lethal and meant to disarm or disable. I'm usually fighting to try to contain a situation, not necessarily bring it to a sudden and messy end."

Glancing at the clock on her phone, Evie realizes that she needs to get a move on if she's going to talk to both Lya and Alex, too. She really wants everyone to have the same information before tonight, just in case any of it has bearing on what happens. Honestly, the only thing she thinks  _might_ come into play is the mention of  _Wolf_ , but...you never know. If any of these other people mentioned are/were scions and had connections....  
  
"I hate to cut this short, but I need to talk to Alex and Lya, too. And, I still need to work on the Davison case before I leave for the casino. Thanks for meeting me for lunch, though," she pulls out her wallet and pulls out a few bills, ready to pay and add her portion of the tip. 

 Hitoshi shakes his head and holds up his hand. "I got this. Have a good day officer cartwright. "

 "Thanks! I'll get the next one," she smiles brightly and adds, "And, it's Evie. No need for formalities."

She goes up to the counter and waits for Maggie to finish with another customer. Evie doesn't even have to say anything, though. The waitress grabs a bag of food from where it has been sitting only briefly and hands it to her. Stapled to the top is a receipt with the words "A. North pick-up Cartwright" scrawled across the top.  
  
"Thanks, Maggie. You have a good day!"   
  
"You, too, hun! Be safe out there," Maggie waves as Evie backs out of the door.  
  
"That's the plan!" she calls back with a smile.  
  
As she walks back to her car, food in hand, she pulls out her phone and dials Lya's number. She hopes that the rocker will be awake by this time of day.

 


	6. Ms. Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hitoshi Ryder meets his mysterious new assistant, Mika Hanamura.

Five past the hour, and Hitoshi clamped down on irritation that was premature, but would come soon enough, as Karen Ryder quietly remonstrated her son for being late. His smartphone pinged as he was riding up in the elevator: James confirming that the buyout had gone through, the papers were signed, and Hitoshi was now the majority shareholder in the Westview Grand, trading on the NYSE as WVG, the Westview Group.

“Good Morning, Hitoshi,” Karen Ryder smiled. She stepped forward and straightened his tie, even though it didn’t need it. “At least you didn’t sleep in your clothes this time.”

Hitoshi bit back his customary retort as he realized someone else was in the room.

“Mika?” Karen said. “I’d like you to meet my son, Hitoshi.”

The woman turned away from the window. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, with the prettiness of a J-Pop starlet, but there was a serious demeanor behind the pleasant smile.

“Ryder-san. Mr. Ryder,” she said. “Mika Hanamura. I look forward to working with you.”

Hitoshi returned the smile with his own, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I had some informal discussions with the board, and we agreed that there’s room for you to take a more formal role with the Westview Group, and here at the Casino,” Karen said. “The title may change as the details are worked out, but Executive Director for Live Entertainment will do. You’re familiar with the music scene through your … friends, and there will be opportunities to travel.

“Mika will be your executive assistant. She has an MBA from Stanford University and is fluent in several languages. Now, we have lunch reservations at the President’s Club.”

Hitoshi rolls his eyes at his mother’s words. "You know mother, I actually have a job.. as a vehicle mechanic. It pays decently. Thirty an hour."

Sighing he turns and Bows to Miss Hanamura. "Hanamura-san, pleasure to meet you. I hope my mother hasn't been too troublesome."

Still despite his words, he holds the door open for his mother and Miss Hanamura.

"It's about making a serious investment in your future, Hitoshi," your mother replies, as if you did nothing but wallow in grease and grime all day.

The President's Club is one of the more prestigious dining venues at the Westview. Classic oak paneling and brass fittings surround tables that are designed for luxury, not economy of space. And there's actually a dress code of jacket and tie for men, a dress for women. No jeans, shorts, no casual/pool wear. Reservations only.

The food, of course, is of a corresponding grade, a five-star menu prepared under the supervision of a dedicated executive chef, rather than the same-entree-different-name plating offered in some venues with shared kitchen space.

You are greeted warmly by the staff as your party enters, and you recognize your mother's influence in the 'thirty second rule' - a guest is greeted and seated within thirty seconds, their drink orders asked after immediately.

Mika strikes you as an odd blend of modern businesswoman and the deferential assistant of the classical Japanese corporate model. But instead of a notepad, she is armed with a tablet computer, smartphone, and Bluetooth earpiece.

"I've taken the liberty of reviewing the existing contracts and scheduled performances through the end of the year," she tells you. "Once you inform me as to your preferred workflow, I will make adjustments to see that you are provided with the details necessary for efficient operations."

Umf. It sounds like one of your mother's lectures on attention to detail. No wonder she likes the girl.

Hitoshi sighs and flags down a waiter. "Rum and Coke, and I want it half and half. Please and thank you."

He turns his attention back to the conversation. "Mother, I have already taken care of my future, and no, it's none of your business. Now Miss Hanamura, IF I take the job, and IF you are my assistant, I have one major rule. Business is not to be discussed when sitting down to eat. It ruins my appetite, but mother will say different, well thats tough. She can say all she likes, but I know enough to know that IF I am The Director of Entertainment, I will have the right to choose those that work for me, and how certain situations are handled, Despite what she says." He looks his Mother in the eye, daring her to say something. 

"Or I can just get up and walk away right now Mother."

"Yes, Mr. Ryder," Mika says. "Sumimasen."

She promptly tucks the tablet out of sight, silences her phone, and removes her earpiece. Again, you are aware of the curious dichotomy - a deferential manner with a hint of steel beneath.

"You're being difficult, Hitoshi," Karen frowns. "Don't take it out on Miss Hanamura. Mika, dear, don't fret. Your position is safe, even if my son declines the offer. If I'd had that attitude, I'd still be serving drinks on the casino floor."

"It's a pity you don't want to talk business," she continues. "There are some exciting opportunities on the horizon for the Westview Group."

_Oh, if only you knew, Mother_ Hitoshi told himself. Buying out J.T. Jennings, for starters. 

"Mister Ryder... Please Call me Hitoshi. I'd like to think I'm not old enough yet to be called Mister." He says smiling at Mika. 

"Oh and Mother, she will be working for me IF I take the job. I'd rather get what little you have beaten into her out, and get her real training. I need an assistant with Empathy and people skills if I take this job, not an iron fisted totalitarian watching my every move." 

The waiter arrives with his drink and he thanks the man tipping him a twenty right on the spot. "Ah, now that... is a rum and coke" He says after taking a long sip of the drink. 

"Now Mother, I actually need your advice on something. Considering I have never eaten here, What would you recommend to order?"

"The Cedar Plank Salmon is excellent," Karen says, ignoring your remonstration. "But, really, it depends on your appetite. You can get a cowboy-cut ribeye, or the petite filet with prawns."

The food is excellent, worthy of a future visit. The stilted silence reminds you of why your mother drives you slightly crazy. There isn't a common ground between you; your passions and avocations are dismissed as the temporary obsessions of a teenaged son. You've grown up, and she hasn't noticed. Or doesn't want to.

It's a bit sad, really.

"Hitoshi, in defense of your mother, nothing was 'beaten into' me," Mika finally says. Your mother begins to interject something, but Mika forestalls her with a direct look.

"I will follow your lead. If you prefer an assistant who keeps her mouth shut and walks three steps behind you, I can do that. If you prefer I be open and direct with you, I can do that. Or I can thank you for this opportunity and be on the next flight back home."

Hitoshi sighs. "Miss Hanamura, I am not wholly opposed to this job to be honest, however I will not make this decision over the course of a meal. Something this big must be slept on. If you need a room here at the hotel, I am sure my mother can pay for one. If not, I will. My decision will be made tomorrow. For now, I simply wish to eat, and get to know my potential work partner better. Also, I work with a bunch of Women who have no trouble speaking their opinion so I have no problem in you doing so. However, the difference between them and my mother is they don't try and control my life."

He takes another long sip of his drink as the waiter comes back. "Anyways, all decisions will be made tomorrow. Now ladies order first."

"If we aren't being formal, then, Mika, please," she says. She turns to the waiter. "I'll have the chicken club salad, the half-size, please."

Your mother orders the cedar plank salmon. She still has the 'tolerant mother' expression going, and the mild irritation of having to always play chess with her over your decisions briefly sours what is otherwise a perfectly-mixed rum and coke.

"Very well then Mika. I can live with that." Despite his mother being there and ruining what might have been an otherwise fine lunch, he still enjoyed the Rum and Coke for it's Numbing qualities. Eventually even it would make her more tolerable. "So Mika, you mentioned home. Where would that be exactly?"

"San Francisco, while I worry about finding a job and making some ... difficult choices," Mika tells you. "I'm originally from Kyoto, lived there through high school. College was my chance to make a fresh start."

 

Hitoshi sets down his fork. "Kyoto, interesting. I lived in Kyoto until I was Eighteen. Then We moved here due to Mother's job." He takes a bite of fish and chews thoughtfully, swallowing before speaking again as Proper dining etiquette was not the same as one would use when eating in a greasy spoon diner. 

"I am from Kyoto, but my family was ... very traditional," Mika says. "My father did not approve of the American influences in our culture, and had strict rules about where we could go, and what we could do."

"I see." Hitoshi steeples his fingers in front of him. "I experienced first hand the non approval of My american heritage many times in back hallways of the local schools, and back alleyways of the city streets." He lets his hands fall and then shrugs. "But the past is the past, and for the most part is something I could care less about."

"Please. It was not pleasant for my family, either. My younger brother mentioned baseball once, and father ... disciplined him. Harshly," Mika said. "My apologies, Ms. Ryder, if this subject is ... disturbing. I do not enjoy speaking of it, but I think Hitoshi should know."

Hitoshi thinks for a moment on how to reply before nodding once. "I never knew my father. Mother raised me with the help of some friends and what family we had over there. Once my grandfather died, it was just me and her." He says this with an even tone, and does not seem to bother him one bit.

Mika simply bows her head slightly, respecting the space within Hitoshi's memories. "My father is a good man. He is just ... he lives in a world of strict rules by choice. For me, it is more than wanting to make different choices. I am not being a rebellious daughter. I am deciding what rules I want to live by."

"I do not know your father, therefore, I have nothing to base an argument for or against him. However, punishing ones child for their choices in life is something I am against. Of course I also happen to be against trying to force a child down a path in live that they don't wish to go."

He glances over at his mother as he says these words and takes another few bites of his meal.

"It is doubtful your paths would have crossed," Mika agrees. "He keeps to his ... business concerns. That a parent is forthcoming with their expectations does not mean they love them any less. But bound roots do not make for a strong tree."

"Well now a days, you'd be surprised who I cross paths with, but back then, I tended to keep to myself." With that said he finishes off his drink, and then his fish. The meal tasted amazing, but like any fancy restaurant, the portions were small.

"Well I must say, for once, I appreciate your advice Mother, the Fish was amazing."

"Joshua is an excellent chef," Karen says. "He has an attention to detail that I admire."

You smile and wonder if that 'attention to detail' drives the line cooks as crazy as your mother's particular expression of that quality. Probably not. While there's a certain precision to the craft, as Rick can attest to, he runs his kitchen off awareness, not micro-management.

With Mika, it is hard to tell if the veiled references to her father and his business mean he is a corporate samurai, a nationalist, or possibly ... Yakuza.

"I'm sure he is, but it's not all attention to detail, sometimes it's gut feeling and intuition as well as awareness." Hitoshi replies. He ponders The woman across from him. He wanted to ask Mika about her father, but he wasn't one to pry. He looks at his watch to check the time. Most people just had cell phones for the time, but He always like watches. Granted it wasn't a Rolex, but it was sturdy, and had the time and date on it, and that was all he needed.

'Well in a few more hours, the band will be playing. Tell me Mother, Who Chose the Necrmantics to play? While I'm glad that Lya and the Furies get to open for them, a Punk Goth Metal band is not the most obvious choice for a Casino show."

"It came about from our discussions about having a Director of Live Entertainment," Karen said. "The board wants to attract a younger demographic, and a one-night-only appearance by Nekromantix was something they were willing to allow. Putting a local group as the opener is simply good business."  
"And I do hope you will give serious consideration to taking the position, Hitoshi."

Hitoshi Facepalms. "Really Mother? A Younger crowd? You mean exactly like I told you lets see..." He whips out his phone and cues up the calendar. "May seventeenth of last year, and I remember you calling it childish, and a horrible idea. Yes, I put it in my calendar because I knew it would come up again, and after tonight, I'm gonna owe you an I told you so, and you will owe me an apology." He slides his phone back into his pocket.

"As for the job mother, I AM giving it serious consideration. that's why I'm not saying yes immediately. I was listening when you told some some things mother. Not that you were around much in my early teenage years, but when you were I actually listened to a few things."

"I wasn't 'around' because I was working," Karen says defensively. "But, as you occasionally remind me, I don't have to justify my existence to you. Still, if you accept the job, it would make me proud."

Mika's discomfort at a difference of opinion between mother-and-son becomes a bit more evident. "If you will excuse me, Hitoshi, Ms. Ryder. I wish to use the ladies' room."

Hitoshi watches Mika walk away, and only speaks when she's out of view. "So, where'd you find her, cause she's gonna have to grow a spine if she's to deal with both of us. You have your opinion, and I have mine, and we just don't agree on a lot of things."

"A spine. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised, Hitoshi. She's an excellent executive assistant, amazingly quick on the uptake," Karen tells you. "As for us disagreeing, and this is not to bribe you into accepting the position, the board is considering making it separate from Resort Operations. We would both be reporting directly to the Board and the CEO, not you to me."

Hitoshi rubs his left pinky with his thumbs. It strangely tended to hurt and throb lately.

"Like I said Mother, I shall have to think on it. I don't want to jump into this lightly, and if I do, I want to cut ties with the autoshop without burning my bridges and friendships with them, Not to mention the band. I've been with them a long time, and that job was more about the friendship than the money."

He snorts at the mention of reporting to the board and CEO, and not to her. If only she knew that he WAS a member of the board. She'd find out tomorrow though.

"Sorry, something tickled my nose there."

"Well, then. The board meeting is slated for 1PM, lunch will be catered around 11:30," Karen says. "May I have your decision before the meeting, at least? You don't need to join us for lunch unless you want to."

Hitoshi shakes his head. "Unfortunately I'll be working till 2 PM. The Police Chief brought in his Harley for service, and Mike put me on it since I'm the best. I'll have to let you know after the meeting then. When's it over?"

He didn't actually have to work, but she didn't know that, and he wasn't about to tell her that he was suddenly going to show up at the meeting and upstage her.

"It shouldn't be terribly long. No later than 3PM, I imagine," your mother answers. "If you are able to make it, text me. My phone will be on silent, but I'll see your message."

"umm why would I attend a Meeting of the Shareholders? I don't own any stock." Hitoshi raises an eyebrow and does his best to look confused. Inside however, he's worried that She already knows.

"I suggested you as a candidate, but I'm not the one offering you the job, Hitoshi," your mother says. "The Board of Directors seemed amenable to the idea."

Hitoshi nods. "Ah, I see. Well then I shall do my best to be there then. I'll have to go into work early." He shrugs. "I'll figure it out Mother."

"Well I suppose it's only natural considering they don't know I already am one of them." He thinks to himself.

Mika returns to her seat at the table.

Your mother dabs her mouth with a napkin. "Well, then. Mika, dear, your position as executive assistant for the Director of Live Entertainment is secure, even if my son declines the position. Hitoshi, I will see you tomorrow."  
Karen departs in her customary precise manner. 

Mika stands and gives you a respectful bow, then presents her business card to you, observing meishi.

"Hitoshi-san, I understand you have not given your decision on the job opportunity," she says. "If you should require my services, you may reach me by phone or e-mail. It has been a pleasure to meet you."

Hitoshi stand and bows, politely accepting her card.

"My apologies but I do not have a business card. I have never had a need to carry them. However after tomorrow I will probably have to get some. Your services will most likely be needed, do not fret." 

He pockets the card and straightens. "If you like punk rock music, the band will be playing this evening, I shall leave a ticket at the door for you. Please, feel free yo make use of it."

"_Domo arigato gozaimashita, Hitoshi-san," she says. "I am not familiar with that style of music, but it will be good to familiarize myself with it, neh? I will see you tonight."

Hitoshi smiles. "Well IF I take the job, you may find yourself associating with the band quiet a bit. Have a good day." He bows again and watches as she leaves before approaching the elevator. Suddenly he stops. 

'Shit, I forgot to tell mother about the restock. Guess I'll have to do it myself."

He grins. His mother would kill him if she knew that he knew where the Hotel's booze supply was.


	7. The Trap Is Sprung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night falls at the Westview Grand as Alex North prepares to be bait and the other Scions prepare to spring their trap...

“Look out, High Roller coming through!” said Tony, one of the bail bondsmen.

“Oh, come off it,” Alex waved at him dismissively. Consequently, he didn’t see Orithia emerge from the limousine. She was dressed in a silver mail top, sleeveless with a scoop neck; and a white leather mini-skirt, the skirt slit to allow freedom of movement. A white band winked from her right thigh, suggestive of a garter, but which Alex realized was probably a holster or weapon harness. Orithia’s modest jewelry included a torc-like necklace and bracelets - no doubt a gorget and bracers. She wore stylish ankle boots with low heels, making Alex aware of her height and athletic mien.

“Hello, Alex,” she smiled, giving him a perfunctory kiss on his cheek. “You look nice.”

“You look amazing.”

“You honor me,” Orithia said reflexively. “Come on, let’s go play.”

She led Alex into the limousine, whereupon he found Phoebe sitting sideways on one bench, rather than hunch over in the confines of the vehicle. She was clad in a similar fashion, her dress looking to be a velvet minidress, but which would doubtless prove to be supple calfskin. A gold chain-link belt was slung low across her hips, and she held a small clutch that was just big enough for a collapsible baton or small pistol. She wore fingerless half-gloves with decorative studs that were probably entirely practical when it came to punching someone’s lights out.

Klepto — Kleoptoleme — was in the back-facing seat. Her ensemble was a Grecian-style dress with more pronounced ‘jewelry’ at her neck and throat, as well as a hip-to-waist sash of fine mail. She appeared to be idly twirling a set of drumsticks, but she wasn’t tapping out a rhythm in the air - she was moving through a martial kata that Alex definitely didn’t want to be on the receiving end of.

“Toxic is with Lya and Hitoshi. They’ll be waiting at the casino,” Orithia said. “And I’d expect a welcoming committee. Two of the puppy dogs were parked down the block, watching you and your office. Are you armed, warrior?”

“Knife,” Alex said, taking utility blade out of his pocket. It was a lockback, one-handed opener, the mechanism lubricated to bring the blade into play with a flick of one’s wrist. “Other than that, body armor.”

Phoebe placed a hand on his chest, pressing it against the armor. “Trauma plate. Lya had said something about you being shot. Were you wearing this?”

Alex shook his head. “No. I got shot.”

Klepto stopped twirling her ‘drumsticks’. Stab. Beat. Block. Stab. “Do you regenerate, Alex? Or are you like Achilles, just a tough son-of-a-bitch?”

“No, not like Achilles. I’m not sure what I do. Did. I healed, but I don’t know how far that grace extends,” Alex said.

“But you’re becoming more than mortal,” Klepto said. “Good. Tonight can be a trial-by-fire. Embrace your divine blood, Son of Tyr. Trust it.”

 

The trip to the Westview Grand is uneventful.

After blundering into the question, ‘So, what kind of music do you like?’ the Furies treated Alex to an a capella rendition of one of their songs, ending with Klepto putting a decided edge onto It’s A Small World, punctuated with more of her drumstick kata.

The Furies weren’t just warrior women out of some comic book adventure; they were much, much more … and woe to the opponent who thought otherwise.

Klepto and Orithia exited the limousine first, drawing a few appreciative whistles and ‘I’m in Vegas!’ phone cam shots. Alex was next, and he offered his hand to Phoebe, who seemed to take it, but barely brushed her fingers against Alex’s palm. All of the women had the edge of soldiers on patrol who were expecting an ambush.

“Hey, North! NORTH!” someone shouted across the turnout.

Alex found himself tensing against an anticipated blow or gunshot, but saw Glenn Vernon waving at him.  
“I didn’t think this was your scene,” Vernon smiled.

“Once in a long while,” Alex smiled. “Good to see you again, Mr. Vernon.”

“Glenn.”

“All right. Glenn. Celebrating?” Alex asked.

“Just a nice dinner out with the fam—“

The screech of burning rubber cut through the evening air, though it didn’t draw too much notice - just another impatient sort cutting around the asshole in the limo.

Or, to be correct, heading straight towards him. It looked to be a used Ford Crown Victoria, the old standard for police cruisers — built in the days of solid steel frames and parts. And, on the passenger side, someone holding a pistol out the window, gangster-style.

Alex pivoted to face them squarely, despite his reflexes telling him to duck. A bullet grazed his side. Another shot caught him close to where he’d been shot the day before. A third slammed into the trauma plate. As he staggered and sank to one knee, two more shots missed him. And then the car was upon him.

“ALEX!” roared Vernon. A woman was screaming, but it wasn’t one of the Furies. 

Phoebe tossed a side mirror onto the ground with a sneer of disgust. “Cowards.”

Klepto had the gunman on the pavement, one drumstick laid across the young man’s throat, and the other poised to stab downwards. Orithia was standing close to Alex’s prone figure, her eyes scanning for additional threats.

Alex drew a hissing breath. His jacket has taken the brunt of the first shot. The second hurt like hell, but he knew he’d heal. The trauma plate caught the third. And he could already tell the cuts and abrasions from the car’s undercarriage were healing.

Still, he lay there for several seconds. He flopped onto his back, and that hurt.

“Thank you, Father,” he murmured.

“Prayers later, man,” Glenn Vernon said as he knelt beside his friend. He pointed at one of the valets. “You, call 911!”

Alex looked up at his former client and coughed. “I’ll be fine. Give me a second.”

“You got shot and run over! Fine?” Vernon exclaimed before he noticed the outline of the ballistic vest pressing against Alex’s shirt. “You’re wearing a vest? Saved your life, man.”

“Still hurts,” Alex managed a weak smile. He sat up, laying a hand over one bullet hole and feigning a wheeze. He was whole and relatively unharmed. There were sirens wailing in the distance, either the police or the paramedics.

A short distance away, Hitoshi muttered an oath under his breath. North might not be his responsibility , but he was another Scion. And, although they’d expected it, attacked on what was technically his front doorstep, an insult to any samurai’s honor.

But North was on his own for the moment. Hitoshi was scanning the crowd for both additional threats, but something more. This was a public hit, the visibility meant as a threat to those involved and a mind-your-place to the mortals in general.

So there had to be someone taking pictures or video. Just another face in the crowd …

From her place in the crowd, Evie watches. Her lips press together in a grim line as she looks towards Alex, but he is well covered by the ladies. There's not much else for her to do, in that regard.

She runs forward, her phone already to her ear as she calls the hit in to the police station. To do anything else would seem abnormal. She scans the crowd, looking for other injured people who may have been hit by stray bullets...

But, mostly, she's looking for anything out of the ordinary. She's not necessarily looking for people taking photos, as Hitoshi is. In all honesty, that angle did not even occur to her. 

Evie is not even sure exactly what she is looking for. All she knows is that she must watch. Someone, somewhere will fuck up if she just keeps an eye out...Maybe not now, at this time. But, at some point.

As people take note of Evie's presence, casino patrons begin offering her their cell phone videos and photos amid insistence that they saw it all. Others make sarcastic comments about, 'What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,' and turn away from the scene.

Alex is still sitting on the ground; Evie knows from personal experience that, even with a vest, getting shot is no picnic. But whatever knack Alex North has for soaking up damage seems to be working - for a man who was shot several times and then run over, he doesn't look any worse than a baseball player who slid home.

As the particulars of the crime scene begin resolving themselves in Evie's mind - she has an idea of where the car came from, and that it was a mid-size sedan - she begins to assess the reactions of others at the scene. Older couples who are shocked, even one or two who think it's part of a Hollywood movie shoot. Casino security employees are forming a loose cordon, keeping people from tromping through an area where there might be tire prints or debris that would be of use to the police.

Perhaps five yards away, there's a man standing at the far edge of the turnout. He's wearing a simple shirt and jacket, both black, but clearly tailored. He is standing with his hands clasped before him, simply watching the scene.

But it is what he is watching that makes him stand out. He studies Alex for a moment, then each of the Furies standing nearby. He scans the crowd, and you know he's looking right at Hitoshi Ryder. Another brief turn, and he's observing Lya Bach and the fourth member of her band.

And then he looks straight at Evie, making eye contact.

Hitoshi slowly makes his way through the crowd, maneuvering so that he comes up behind the man with the camera. Once he's behind him he smiles. "Excuse me sir, but you seem to be at the best position to get evidence on what happened to Mr. North over there. You need to come and talk to the Authorities." 

"Authorities?" the photographer asks. "I'm not just handing this over. Had that happen to a friend once, police took his camera, came back, everything was wiped, stuff was broken. Nuh-uh. You keep your mitts to yourself."

Hitoshi's smile fades. "Look pal, either you can go over to that detective over there and show her what you have, or I can call her over here and she can arrest you as an accomplice to the whole thing and they take your camera anyways. Granted the accusation won't stick, but who knows what would happen to your camera in the police impound." He snarls pointing out Evie.

"Whoa! I didn't do nothing!" the man says, still playing keep-away with his camera, holding it out of your immediate reach. "Cop lady over there asks, fine. You, who are you, one of the valets?"  
"No, I'm not. Now. You WILL follow me over to her." Hitoshi uses a little bit of his power, now fully annoyed with the man.

"Yeah ... sure ..." the man says blankly.

You walk over to Evie Cartwright, who is still surveying the scene ...

"Officer Cartwright, this man has Some pictures to show you. I believe he was in the best spot to see what happened." Hitoshi nods at evie.

Gunshots. Squealing tires. Screams.

Phoebe makes to rip off the driver's side door, but only ends up with a side mirror for her efforts. She casts it aside.

Kleptoleme simply takes hold of the shooter's arm and shoulder as the car speeds away, and yanks the shooter out of the passenger side window. He lands on the pavement, winded. Reflexively, his gun is being brought to bear, but one of Klepto's drumsticks whistles through the air to strike the man's wrist.

The Glock falls from a hand gone numb from a nerve strike.

"You're crazy, bitch! Fucking pull me outta the car window!"

"It's where we take you next that you should be worried about," says Orithia. "Goodnight, Sweet Prince."

She hits the gunman with a cross-temple palm strike. His head lolls to one side.

Evie turns as Hitoshi approaches her. "Photos or video?"  
"Video," the man with the camera says, somewhat dazed.

_To clarify, Hitoshi and Evie have the photographer. Lya and the Furies have the shooter. The guy who was watching the Scions is standing across the way at the turnout._

"All right, we're a go," Lya says to Toxic as she witnesses the altercation go down. "Let them know and then we'll go through the casino and get this guy in through the back."

Toxic whistles and nods to Phoebe, who nods in affirmation. "This man obviously needs first aid," she says as she looks meaningfully at Orithia and Klepto. "Let's get him the attention he deserves."

"If only," Orithia jokes as she bends down and she and Klepto put one arm each of the unconscious gang member around their shoulders. "Your carriage awaits."

Phoebe watches the crowd for any trouble as Klepto and Orithia weave through the crowd to get to the back alley of the casino where Lya and Toxic will let them in.

"Thank you for your cooperation, sir." she takes the phone and quickly checks to see if the man has a Dropbox app. 

Seeing that he doesn't, she takes a second to download it. Evie has a spare Dropbox that she uses to shuffle inane stuff around. There is nothing of consequence in it. She connects to that and plops tonight's videos into it. 

She then makes sure that she logs out and deletes the Dropbox app. She makes a mental note to delete that whole account once she gets home.

She nods to Hitoshi as she hands the camera back to the man, leaving the video untouched. Unfortunately, she doesn't feel like she can delete it without drawing ire. The police have been targeted too often for messing with people's videos...deleting them, confiscating phones, etc. To delete something might give someone, even the Lobos, a reason to call foul.

Gently, she nudges Hitoshi in the ribs and nods her head towards the man in the tailored suit. 

The man observing Evie, Hitoshi, and the others gives a faint smile that touches mostly his eyes. Some might qualify it as a mischievous glimmer. He gives a hat-tip style gesture.

At that moment, an ambulance pulls into the turnout, the paramedics emerging to unload a stretcher and see to Alex North, blocking the mystery man from view.

Hitoshi nods at the man signaling he had seen him. "Yea, I see him now. Lets go have a quick chat shall we?" He starts strolling over toward the man but is cutoff by the ambulance as it pulls up, forcing him to go around.

"All right, lets get him back to the Security office and secure him before he wakes up," Lya says as she holds open the back door to Orithia and Klepto. They follow inside as Toxic checks the alleyway for anyone observing them before following along behind.

Hitoshi makes his way around the ambulance, but when he does, the man is no longer in view. Which is odd in one sense, as there's still a crowd pointing and murmuring, with no 'ripple' in the crowd to show where the man might have gone.

It's considerably more disturbing from the perspective that this is an affair of gods and their scions, with the Manada de Lobos little more than foot soldiers and patsies.

"Excuse me," Hitoshi asks one couple. "Looking for a man, about 5'10", clean-cut, wearing a black suit?"

"No, sorry, haven't seen anyone like that," the man says. "I heard Vegas was exciting, but I never expected this!"

Meanwhile, Alex is trying to disentangle himself from the paramedics, who have him sitting on the gurney.

"Look, I'm okay. I was wearing a vest," Alex says.

"Patient responsive, pulse steady," one paramedic relays to his partner. He flicks a penlight at Alex's eyes. "Pupils reactive. No indication of concussion. Sir, if you'll sit quietly for a second, I'd like to take your blood pressure."

"When you're satisfied I shouldn't be under a yellow tarp, can I go?"

"Just breathe normally, please. No talking for a moment," says the paramedic. "BP 120 over 80. Take a deep breath, please, Sir? Any pain?"

"No, no pain, no tightness," Alex said, which wasn't entirely true. He'd been in considerable pain a few minutes ago, but that was fading, and not because he was lapsing into shock.

"Who's the officer-in-charge?" the paramedic asked. "Hey, Pete, who's OIC?"

The police officer glanced around. "Looks like it's Cartwright. Problem?"

"Victim's fine. Looks like his jacket and vest took the brunt of it," said the paramedic. "No reason to take him to General."

"Twice in as many days. You're a lucky bastard, North," the officer said. "Yo, Evie! You wanna talk to Superman, over here, or can we let him go?"

Evie's brow furrows once she sees that the mystery man has disappeared,Not good. Not good, at all.

Granted, it's always a possibility that the man isn't an enemy. He just happened to be in the right place at the right time to see things go down and happens to be a scion or other agent of a god who isn't involved. But, really...what are the odds of that? Evie snorts softly to herself, Not bloody likely.

Upon hearing the officer call out, Evie makes her way to Alex's side where he sits impatiently upon the gurney. She knows that she has to make a show of it, to seem like things are normal. Well, normal-ish. As normal as it can be when a man has been attacked twice in two days.

Nope. No god business going on here, guys. Move along. Nothing to see.

"Jesus, North," she shakes her head. "Who did you piss off?" 

She stands by the gurney and seems to think for a second, "You can go. I doubt you saw anything that isn't going to show up in the various videos and pictures that are appearing on the web even as we speak. BUT...I am going to want to speak to you as soon as you feel like it. You've obviously riled up someone. Maybe someone who lost to you and doesn't like it."

She gently claps him on the shoulder, taking care not to cause anymore pain (even though she's not even sure he even is still in pain), "Do you want us to put someone on watch at your house or work?"

Klepto and Orithia set the unconscious Lobo into a chair with a thud as Lya looks around the office for something to restrain the guy with. "Where's a pair of handcuffs when you need them," she mutters as Toxic enters the room.

"A warrior knows how to improvise," Toxic replies as she quickly undoes her belt and uses it to bind his arms to the chair while Orithia searches him for any other weapons with a look of distaste.

"Ugh... just because they worship dogs doesn't mean they have to smell like them."

"What would I do without you guys?" Lya asks with a smile as she sits on the edge of the desk and whips out her flask for a drink.

"The answer to that is something I never want to have to tell your father," replies Klepto as she gestures for the flask and takes a sip. "So now we wait for Hitoshi?"

"Or for him to wake up... whichever comes first," Lya replies.

"I hope he's a light sleeper," chuckles Orithia.

"Hmm. I wonder ... I just cleared Mr. Vernon, there, of a burglary charge. Wonder if I put some heat on someone else as a result," says Alex. "I don't think I need a round-the-clock detail, Detective, but I sure wouldn't mind a patrol car making an occasional circuit."

"I think I'll have to retire this vest. Maybe even upgrade to a Class III," Alex shakes his head. "Jacket's a write off. Bullet graze, torn up from the car's undercarriage ..."

He gets off the gurney without any apparent discomfort. "If you need a statement, give me a call tomorrow. I think I'm going to go inside, have a nice dinner, and court some friendlier odds."

Evie nods, "Well, good luck. Hopefully, you've used up all the bad mojo for one night!"

She then moves back into the crowd and does her job, taking statements from people and helping to calm the crowd.

She trusts Lya and Hitoshi to take care of the Lobos member. For now, she needs to simply play her role.

Phoebe walks up to Alex with a nod as he's sitting on the gurney. "Alex, I would be honored to escort you. I know where all the fun is happening inside."

The shooter has an extra magazine in his pocket, as well as a serviceable knife.

"Black Talons," Orithia notes, looking at the bullets. They're pre-fragmented rounds designed to tear through body armor and flesh, banned in most areas as, 'cop killer' rounds. "Alex should be on his way to Valhalla."

"Ick. Sweaty boy wallet," Toxic says. "Ramon Gutierrez, age 17. Street address, probably his parents' house. A couple hundred bucks here, didn't get that from flipping burgers. Does he have a phone, Or?"

"On the table. Probably selfies of himself flexing and trying to look badass."

 

"My being on the casino floor will draw attention somewhere else," Alex says to Phoebe. "Lya has my number if you learn anything interesting. Thank you ... and your bandmates for watching out for me."

Lya takes a swig from her flask and puts it back into her interior coat pocket before picking up the phone off the table. "It's been my experience that gangs like to keep proof of their deeds as a way to show off to the others. It's the digital version of 'Who's got the bigger dick.' Let's see if our boy was even smart enough to lock his phone..."

The shooter's smartphone comes to life with the standard prompt for a four-digit PIN. Lya tries some simple combinations on a whim: 5626 (LOBO), 4264 (GANG), and 5333 (JEFE). None of these work.

"Pull his shirt off," she says. "I want to see his ink."  
Orithia obliges. The shooters tattoos are a blend of professional ink and the faded look of prison specials, the usual mix of guns, garishly adorned skulls, and area codes. A couple of pin-up girls and snakes adorn one arm, but it's the fan of cards above one skull that draws Lya's attention.  
She taps out 2737 (ASES), Spanish for 'aces,' but also part of 'asesino,' assassin.

The phone unlocks.

"Bingo!" exclaims Lya as she opens the phone. "Let's see what he's got in his photos, shall we? Still not waking up, eh?"

Orithia shrugs. "Guess he's a deep sleeper after all."

It's the usual. Cars, selfies with the girlfriend, los hermanos, guns ... and an assortment of photos that would likely implicate him in several assaults and shootings.

That includes a photo of Alex from what looks to be just outside his office, a photo of yourself and the Furies outside the Dive, and a photo of Hitoshi's torn up front lawn. There's not a photo of Evie, but if she just had her visitation, whoever is directing the gang may not have come up with a reason to add her to the list.

"Mmummff," Gutierrez mumbles, beginning to regain consciousness.

"Hitoshi's wanting to go all medieval on his ass...but I've got an idea," Lya says as she grabs her sharpie and writes something on a piece of paper off the desk. "Everybody in close for a selfie!"

She kneels next to the unconscious thug and holds up a piece of paper on his chest that says "He told us everything!" as she sticks her tongue out at the camera and the others gather around with big grins and various hand gestures. The camera flashes and Lya smiles at the picture now on the lobo's phone. "Perfect! Now to check his phone history and see who I can send this to if he doesn't talk..."

Hitoshi heads inside through the front of the Casino so that anyone that knows him will assume he's inside with the bigwigs. Making his way through the crowd he makes it to a stairwell and after looking around to make sure no one that matters sees him, he ducks inside and heads down to the basement, ducking out into the machine room. Inside the generators and laundry machines are loud and noisy. Kneeling down he picks up a large paper sack full of tools and items he bought hours before. With half the lights out, it's rather dark, but he knows exactly where he is going as he weaves his way between the equipment and opens the door to the Security room and steps inside. The room was where security roughed over those people caught cheating at the casino before they were handed to the cops.

“Alex is fine, and Officer Cartwright is in charge of the scene.” He sets the sack down on a table and starts laying the items out. The first is rope, the second a boxcutter, then lemons, rubbing alcohol, salt, bleach, plastic sheeting, duct tape, pliers, bottled water, a screwdriver, a plastic apron, rubber gloves, finally a soldering iron. Picking up the plastic sheeting and the duct tape he works in silence taping it up over the walls and out onto the floor. Finally he looks over at the chair the man is on. Dragging over another chair he uses the screwdriver to loosen and take off the back of the chair leaving just the risers. 

“Ladies, you are better at knots than I am. Secure him to that. I want his back exposed with nothing for him to lean against.. Oh, and make it tight... Please.” 

“We already have him tied up.” Toxic says.

'I know, and you did a wonderful job, but in the chair he's in, he's comfortable, and we wouldn’t want than now would we?” Hitoshi replies with a grin.

Toxic grins back. “On second thought, no we wouldn't.” It takes her and the girls mere moments to retie the man to the new chair. Hitoshi walks over and after putting on the apron and gloves opens a bottle of water. Taking a quick swig he dumps the rest over the head of the ganger. “And now the fun.”

He leans in close. “Wakey wakey.”  
The shooter - there's no mistake that he's the trigger man - sputters as the cold water snaps him back to wakefulness. The way the room is lit - a sharp cone of bright light above the subject, surrounded by shadow - is a classic interrogation setting.

"I ain't tellin' you nothing, police-man," he snarls. He struggles a bit as he notices the ... implements ... arranged on the table beside him. "Whoa, hey, that's illegal."

Hitoshi chuckles a low, evil chuckle. “police? Police? Hey Toxic, you see any police here?”

“Nope, no Cops here.” Toxic replies. She looks over at Klepto. “Hey Klep, any cops around?”

“The only cop I know of are out on the street.” Klemto says.

Hitoshi look back at the man. “Seems we are fresh outa cops round here man. What we do have is four pissed off women, Lya, and Me.” He pulls the chair that the man was originally in up behind the man but doesn’t sit down yet. 

“mmm, Nice ink you got there, but it's crap compared to what the Yakuza wear. Now, I'm going to give you one chance to spill your guts and save yourself a world of pain. After that well... as you said, all that stuff IS illegal.”

"You work for the 'kuza?" the shooter says. "But everyone says you hate the gangs."

He glances about the room, trying to figure out an escape route, sees nothing that isn't covered with plastic sheeting. Klepto is standing in the background doing her drumstick kata again. Twirl. Slash. Stab. Twirl.

"I ain't telling you nothing," he repeats stubbornly.

Hitoshi snorts. "No, I don't work for the yakuza." When the man says he won't answer Hitoshi shrugs and grabs the bleach, lemons, Salt, and Boxcutter, and sits down behind the man.

"I'm gonna tell you a story so I want you to pay attention. It's about one of my Run ins with the Yakuza a few years ago, and just what they did to me."

He pulls out a sharpie marker and starts outlining the mans tattoo's. Leaning forwads he speaks real low in the man's ear. "After that, I'm going to do you a favor and get rid of some of this horrible ink on your back. Sadly though, it's gonna hurt like hell, and I don't have any Novocaine."

He nods at Lya at this point.

"You've got to forgive my friends... Hitoshi went through a lot in Japan that he never talked about because it was so painful.." Lya visibly shudders as she walks into view holding his phone, "and my friends are excited at the thought of finally seeing a demonstration. Me, I'm not nearly so bloodthirsty... I just ask real nice and people do it for me." she turns the camera around to show him the picture she took earlier. "Like your friends for example. I'm sure they don't look well on snitches, do they? So you see...you've got 3 choices: you could justifiably break under torture and tell us what we want to know... you could be all tough and take the pain and torture that Hitoshi is going to put you through and still not tell us anything, only to be killed by your own gang after I send this to everyone in your phone history... or you could tell us what we need to know, share a drink with me, and then go on your merry way." she pulls the flask out from her coat with her other hand and gives it a shake. "Perfectly aged rum... what do you say?"

"Right. So you're my friend, chica? You gonna protect me from el loco cabron over there?" the shooter sneers. He spits at you. "Fuck you."

Lya takes a drink and leans in towards the ganger. "I'm the only friend you have right now, pendejo... and trust me when I say this..." she takes another sip and looks pointedly down at his crotch before she looks him in the eyes, "You're not going to be able to fuck anything when he's done."

She leans back and returns to sitting on the desk where she starts messing with his phone again. "Let's see... you've got a Facebook account? Of course you do... who doesn't?" she looks up at the ganger and grins. "And oh... you were kind enough to leave yourself logged in, too! I think everyone's just going to love your new profile picture. Now... how do I change your status to 'Dead Man Walking?'"

"Yeah, you do that. Let all my boys know what you look like," the shooter smirks. "Only walking dead will be you people."

"I'm a musician, dude... if everybody didn't know what I looked like by now, then my PR man wouldn't be doing a very good job, would he?" Lya smirks. "You did get one thing right though...we'll be the only ones walking after this."

He gives a short, barking laugh. "You wish. El Jefe, he's in with powerful people. You? You'll be street pizza like your lawyer friend."

Hitoshi's fist crashes against the man's jaw.

“Manners dude, apparently your mother taught you none. Now. Since you were dumb enough to NOT take my friend's kind offer, you get to deal with me.”

Hitoshi picks up the boxcutter and pour rubbing alcohol on the blade to sterilize it. Then he starts swabbing the man's back with the remaining alcohol.

“We don't want any of this getting infected, that would be inhumane.”

He looks over at the band. “Ladies, I know you have seen a lot on the field of battle, but this won't be pretty. If you wish to leave, please do so now.”

"You hit like a girl," the shooter sneers. He adopts a bad Arnold Schwarzenegger imitation. "Are you a girly man?"

"He doesn't know what we used to do to ourselves, does he?" whispers Phoebe to Klepto as they lean against the wall in the shadows. 

"I was as surprised as you were that we had two of these again once we were summoned," Klepto quietly replies as she briefly cups her chest.

"In other words... do what you will, Hitoshi... we're not squeamish," Toxic replies.

"Start with the fingers, Hitoshi," suggests Lya after taking another drink from her flask. "Once you start with flaying a man, it's kind of hard to top that... you know?"

“I'm saving those for a necklace for Toxic.” Hitoshi jokes. Then he sighs, and all emotion drains from his face. 

“Now, I keep promising you a story man, and I haven’t yet delivered.” He picks up the boxcutter and starts lightly scratching lines on the man's shoulders. The lines are not very deep, they barely draw blood. 

“A few years ago I had a run in with the Yakuza while visiting japan...”

“What jeffe? Thats it? I get worse scratched than that fucking my bitch!”

Hitoshi's fist crashes against the man's jaw again.

“I'm not yet done. Anyways, they started out small as well. Tied me to a chair just like you are. The only difference was my best friend from childhood was forced to watch as they made these same cuts. Now here's the interesting part. These cuts are mere annoyances, however...”

He picks up a lemon and cuts it in half rubbing it against the cuts.

“This stings like a bitch.”

“Ow! Fuck you Cabron! That all you got?” The ganger winces.

Hitoshi picks up the boxcutter again. “No, I'm just doing as my friend asks and starting small. Now where were we? Oh yes. I had nearly the same reaction. Lemon juice stings, but it's not enough. Thats okay. I have better stuff.” Picking up the duct tape he cuts a good size strip off of it.

“I, I thought you wanted me to talk!” The ganger's eyes go wide and Hitoshi leans in close.

“Yes, yes I do, but not right now. Later you will talk.” He seals the man's mouth with the tape then sits back down. The ganger struggles and Hitoshi punches him in the kidneys. 

“The Yakuza were nice enough to use an actual scalpel on me but I was in a hurry to pick this stuff up. The next thing they did was cut strips down my back.”

Slowly he starts cutting down the man's back well enough to draw a good amount of blood. One slice, two slices. The ganger struggles and is clearly in pain as a tear falls down his cheek. Behind him a simultaneous tear falls from Hitoshi's cheek. After five cuts he stops cutting and picks up the bag of fine grain salt. 

“After that they picked me up and laid me out on a bed of fine salt. Do you know what that does to those cuts? It gets into every crevice, every cut, and it so burns. Imagine every move you make grinding more and more salt against those cuts. Oh wait, you don't have to imagine.”

He throws a handful of salt against the gangers back. The ganger arches in pain struggling to try and get away from the pain he was cause. He's now screaming behind the duct tape. Hitoshi waits until his struggles have stopped. He takes the knife again. 

“Ready to talk?” He asks. The ganger just glares at him. 

“Okay then. So as I was saying, When the salting was done, they moved on to something more caustic... Bleach.” He looks around. “Will one of you ladies hand me the bottle of bleach on the table over there?”

Lya shakes her head. "I don't think that's what she meant by starting small, Hitoshi," says Toxic as she walks up to the man struggling in the chair and grabs his hand. "She said..." the man's pinky makes a sickening crunch as it suddenly bends in the wrong direction, "start... (crunch goes the middle finger)...with... (crunch goes his trigger finger) the fingers."

Hitoshi looks over at Toxic. “Lya has her ways, I have mine, and apparently you have yours. Nicely done.”

He leans in to the ganger. “Now, I'm going to remove the tape, and these girls are going to ask you some questions. And remember, I can do shit like this all day. Hell, I'll even get creative.”

He rips the tape off the ganger's mouth taking some mustache hairs along with it.

 

"That was for the one of you who slapped my ass," Toxic says seductively into his ear as she runs her fingers down his other arm towards his unbroken hand. "Want to see what I do to people who shoot at my friends?"

"Last chance, buddy..." Lya warns as she shakes her flask. "I'll bet a strong drink would be good about now, eh? Much better to have alcohol in your stomach than bleach on your back, I'm sure." 

Behind the anger and defiance still flashing in the shooter's eyes, Hitoshi can also see the doubt beginning to creep in around the edges of the man's world. It's not the physical pain, of course - it's the pain felt in one's spirit, the black despair when the torture has stripped away everything else, and there's nothing left, just you, cold, naked, and alone. The fact that you failed yourself and the people who were depending upon you. And that there's no one riding over the hill to your rescue. You're it.

It's the bright line between life and death. 

He's there.

Weakly, he shakes his head, then lets it fall.

"No mas," he whispers. "No more."

Hitoshi stands and slaps the ganger on the shoulder. "Smartest thing you have done all night." He steps around the man and sets the tools on the table and carefully strips off the apron and rubber gloves so as to not get any blood on his actual clothes.

"He's all yours ladies." With that said he heads out the door. It slams closed behind him, but a second later opens again.

"Hitoshi." Poebe's voice calls out and he stops.

"Yes?" He asks quietly.

"Was all that you said just now.. did it all really happen?" 

Hitoshi is quiet for a moment. "Go ask Lya. She knows. Have a good night Phoebe."

"Okay, have a good night Hitoshi."

Hitoshi just waves with his left hand and starts walking again. Phoebe can see that his Left Pinky is shorter than it should be. Then he passes through the second set of doors and heads up to the Casino bar.

"Aww... killjoy," mutters Toxic as she stands up and rejoins the others against the wall. 

"They just don't make them like they used to," laments Orithia.

Phoebe lets the door close and turns back to the others. "At least not this guy, anyway."

"Finally! One of these days somebody's going to take the drink offer first," Lya sighs as she hops off the desk. "Now as promised... I'm sure your voice is a bit hoarse after all the screaming." she nods to Orithia who grabs the back of the guy's head and holds it back so Lya can carefully pour some of the rum into his mouth. 

"So tell me about El Jefe and why you want to kill Mr. North so much."

"The lawyer? El Jefe's friends want him out of the way. We take care of that, we get rewarded," the shooter says.

"Is that the only person you've been contracted to hit by this El Jefe? What does El Jefe look like? Has he ever said more about his actual name or who his friends are?"

"Mario? We call him El Jefe, but, you know, he's just the guy who picked up the pieces from ... before," the shooter says. "You understand, this gringo in a suit comes along, talks a line about helping us score, we figure he's full of shit. Told him to fuck off. Guy just smiles and hands Mario a business card, says it might come in handy.

"And then Esteban, I don't know what happened to him, man. One night, he just went crazy. I mean loco. Not drunk. Out-of-his-mind crazy. Some of us tried peyote once, this was way worse. He was raving about how the End of All Things was coming, and we needed to pick sides.

"He blew his brains out, man. Boom, right in front of us, ate a bullet.

"Mario kept it all locked down, kept us from losing our shit. And I guess he figured if the other gangs heard about Esteban going cuckoo, we'd be the whipping boys. Turf war.

"So Mario calls this gringo, calls himself Mr. Lyman, who says he wants local talent. I seen him that one time, and it didn't look like he needed help. Bunch of serious Arnolds backing him up, driving his car. But he pays really fucking well. I mean high roller, whale-level stuff. Got some diamonds for my girlfriend, not fuckin' JewelryMart crap, either.

"But every now and then, the word comes down. Place needs to be hit, someone needs persuading. Your lawyer friend must be on his shit list. We don't ask questions. We do the job, and we get paid."

"Phoebe, would you check on Hitoshi? Unless I miss my guess he's probably in the bar." Phoebe nods and quietly leaves the room.

Lya takes another swig from her flask before walking over to the prisoner. "I'm going to offer you another drink before I tell you about your friend Esteban." 

The gang member nods warily and then leans his head back as Lya pours some more rum down his throat. She waits until he swallows before she continues. "You see... your friend Esteban saw the truth of it: the end of the world IS coming...at least according to one religion... and you guys are helping the side wanting it to happen. Esteban had an attack of good conscience and just couldn't take it any more. " She takes another drink. "So what about you? Are you looking to have a life with your girlfriend...or are you more interested in the quick cash before the world burns and takes you with it?"

"The End of the World, for real? Like all those crazy preachers on the television?" the shooter scoffs. "It's all talk so you put money in the basket. What are you going to tell me that will convince me Esteban wasn't on drugs?"

"I'm not saying that Esteban probably wasn't on drugs... but ask yourself this... why would I lie to you?" Lya replies as she gets up and paces in front of him. "My band and I like to sing, drink, and have a good time... not sit in back rooms in the dark and threaten peoples lives. There's no honor in it... no fun in it... " she stops in front of him and jabs a finger in his chest as the Furies murmur in agreement. "But fuck me if I won't do what needs to be done to keep this world kicking, buddy.... and right now that means keeping my new lawyer friend alive."

She steps back and leans against the desk. "This isn't going to be on TV with some lady with a giant bouffant crying for cash. You've seen it... it's all around us, dude. Haven't you noticed the world going to shit? People not caring about each other... killing each other over shoes or bad grades... wars all over the world that never seem to end... you'll ignore it and say 'Oh that's just the way the world is...' but in reality that's the way the world has become... until one day..." she slams her hand against the desk, "BOOM! Those missiles aimed at Russia get launched because it turns out that name on the list that you happened to 'take care of' was going to be an influential diplomat that wasn't there to stop fucking World War III."

She takes a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh. "Do you get me?"

"What do I care? World hasn't given me shit, lady. Shitty public housing. Shitty schools. People I don't know tell me to speak English when I use a Spanish word. My mom's a fucking housekeeper at a place like this, cleaning rooms just to scrape by.

"Get a job? Get a haircut. Cover up your ink. Use the back entrance. It's all bullshit to keep minorities in their place," he says angrily. "Cleanin' up after the rest of you.

"So bring it. End of the World? Maybe the next one will give a shit about us."

"The World doesn't give a shit about anyone... and why should it?" exclaims Klepto in frustration as she steps out of the shadows. "You walk around thinking you deserve life handed to you on a silver platter... it's pathetic. Until you grow some damn balls and make your life your own in spite of the world, all you'll ever be is a lowly pawn in someone else's power struggle... in this world AND the next." Klepto spits at his feet.

"Yeah... I think we're done here," Lya sighs in disappointment. "Orithia... if you would?"

"Once a dog... always a dog," she mutters before she strikes his temple and knocks him unconscious.

"We'll gag him and make sure he's immobile in here before I call Evie and let her know where she can pick up her shooter."

Lya slides open her phone and fiddles with the ganger's phone for a moment. "Wouldn't want to lose such a wonderful photo now would I? I think I'll make it my lock screen on my phone," she jokes to the others. She fishes Evie's business card out of her back pocket and starts dialing. "Evening Officer," she begins once it's answered. "My band and I seem to have run into a rather dubious character fleeing the scene of the shooting tonight, and we wanted to let you know where you could pick him up for processing."

"Is everyone all right?"

"Yes...yes... though the foolish man did try to attack Toxic... so he might have a broken finger or two..." she scratches her head, "...okay, maybe three."

"We'll make sure he's taken care of, Ms. Bach."

"Excellent. Have a good night, Officer." with that Lya hangs up her phone and smiles at the others as she puts her phone away and wipes down the ganger's phone with her shirt before putting it in his back pocket.

"I think that's a wrap for tonight, guys. Who's up for a drink or three in the casino?"


	8. Pre-Show Jitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lya and the Furies get ready to perform their first big concert at the Westview Grand while Alex and Evie discuss their theories about the assassination attempt.

(Friday Evening / Pre-Performance)

As with most casinos, there was a selection of truly excellent restaurants. Of course, you had to cross the floor and the inviting sights and sounds of the gaming tables. Alex had enjoyed an occasional weekend night at the casinos when he first arrived in town, but had, like many Vegas residents, ultimately become inured to the illusion of becoming an instant millionaire.

As Alex was shown to his table at a restaurant affiliated with a celebrity chef, he was approached by a woman wearing a conservative business suit bearing a cloisonné pin featuring the Westview Grand logo.

Her name tag identified her as K. Ryder, Operations Manager . Hitoshi's mother, then.

"Good evening, Mr. North," she said, smiling pleasantly. "I'm Karen Ryder, Casino Operations Manager here at the Westview Grand. I wanted to apologize for the unpleasantness earlier this evening."

"Thank you, Ms. Ryder, but the Westview isn't responsible for any of that," Alex reassured her.

"Nonetheless, we're pleased that you weren't seriously injured, and the Westview will be comping your meal this evening. It's a small courtesy, but we want to make it clear that you and your guests are welcome here."

"I appreciate the gesture, Ms. Ryder, but it's not necessary. I just came here for a nice meal and perhaps some Blackjack."

Ryder smiled. "Then we'll do everything we can to make sure your visit is a pleasant one."

That, fortunately, included telling news crews to wait outside of the restaurant out of respect for the other guests.

"Do you ... ah ... are you hungry?" he asked Phoebe.

She laughed. "Don't tiptoe, Alex. We're not made of glass."

"Hardly that."

"Warriors know how to celebrate, because they dance on the edge of life and death," Phoebe told him. "The petite-cut filet will do. Rare. A glass of the Domaine Chandon, perhaps."

Most of the news crews had left by the time Alex and Phoebe were done with their meal. They were probably chasing a fire or, with luck, an arrest or three in connection with the shooting.

"Alex!" called out the one photographer who was left. The kid had served as a Combat Photographer in the Army, and considered Alex as a brother-in-arms.

"Evening, Mark. Slow news day?" Alex laughed.

"Just some penny-ante lawyer getting shot outside a casino," Mark shot back.

"Please tell me you're just here for b-roll."

"Yeah. Although Megan left me a list of questions if you want to go on record ...?"

"Not particularly. Okay, here, you can take some pretty pictures of my jacket, and me walking down the hall. Leave the young lady out of things, please."

"I'm going to go find my sisters," Phoebe said, further assuring that she would not end up on videotape, nor the band receive negative publicity.

"Okay," Alex said. "Have fun."

 

"She's hot," Mark noted. "When did you start dating supermodels, Ell-Tee?"

"Would you believe she's just a friend?"

"And she's got sisters?"

"And they all have really high standards," Alex said seriously.

"Damn, you sound like their big brother."

"I think someone else has that job."

"Cop outside said you were wearing a vest," the photographer remarked.

"Yeah," Alex confirmed. He undid one shirt button to show the vest. However, he hadn't realized one round was still embedded in the trauma plate over his vitals. The slug had the distinctive petals of a 'cop killer' round, and both men recognized it.

Mark gave a low whistle. Alex knew what the photographer was thinking as he pulled back from his viewfinder and glanced at the other two bullet holes in Alex's shirt. If they'd been firing that kind of round, Alex's insides should be all over the driveway.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"I'll cut around that, man. But I want the story."

"When I can give it to you, Mark. Maybe even if I can give it to you. It's not something you want to get mixed up in."

"Hint received."

Alex winced at remembered pain. For a moment, he hoped his ability to heal wasn't a question of believing he could, and that, if he doubted or stopped believing, all of his wounds would come back in full force.

He pried the slug free of the trauma plate, folded it into his hand and then into his jacket pocket. It wasn't a question of wearing a vest - the moment someone in forensics got a look at the slug, the moment a police officer examined the shooter's weapon, there would be questions. Dumping the bullet and the vest would make no difference. This kind of bullet was designed specifically to penetrate body armor and wreak grievous injury. And what would the Manada de Lobos try next? Believing he'd had a vest on during the robbery, they'd upgraded to 'cop killer' bullets. It was doubtful the gang had a trained sniper in their ranks, but a burst from an TEC-9 or Uzi might do the trick. Or an IED.

Maybe it was time to take Clemens up on his offer and join the DA's office as an ADA.

=====

"Be sure the turnout is made presentable for tomorrow's meeting of the Board of Directors," Karen Ryder instructed her executive assistant. "There's no keeping the ... accident ... out of the news, but we don't want anything detracting from the front of the house. Sidewalk swept, anything that's broken gets replaced or removed, landscaping to lay new turf or plants. If there are any blood stains, they get steam-cleaned. And not a scrap of crime scene tape, not even peeking out of a trash receptacle."

"Yes, Ms. Ryder."

"Please tell me the limousine wasn't damaged."

"It wasn't, Ma'am."

"Good. Have the limousine and driver available for the board members. Guests can use the backup."

"On it."

Ryder believed the reason she'd been promoted was the precise manner in which she conducted her affairs. It wasn't enough to be capable; one had to define the word exceeds on performance reviews.

She saw the Westview Grand as one of the pre-eminent casinos on the Strip, and that was because on her watch, everything was squared away and ship shape. She was aware, of course, that some of her employees called her a bitch behind her back, styling her as anal retentive and OCD, but they were in their place, and she in hers.

Alex stopped by one of the stores on the casino's promenade. You could get anything from jeans to Armani, though the jeans would likely be designer label and 'pre-stressed'. He availed himself of a black polo shirt sans logo (and the designer price tag), and a black sportcoat. His vest, dress shirt, and leather jacket were folded up, tucked in a bag, and handed over to the coat check.

"I'll take those, Mr. North," Evie Cartwright said. "Evidence."

"Um, yeah. Of course," Alex said. "Hey, I found this on the ground outside, don't know if it's important."

He opened his hand to show Evie the 'cop killer' round he'd pried out of his trauma plate.  
"I'm not a CSI, but I didn't want to throw it away, either," he lied.

"Ah! Thanks, I'll take care of it," Evie says. Much like Alex, she has no intention of handing it over to the authorities. It would raise too many questions. Instead, it will be neatly tucked away in her apartment, somewhere, and she will claim that she found it. Somewhere. At some time. She can come up with plausibly vague details, later.

She pulls out her phone and fiddles with it, giving her an excuse to have her head down. Though she has no reason to fear anyone or anything in the casino, well.... Better safe than sorry.

As she messes with some random app, she says softly, her words meant for Alex alone, "There was a visitor at the accident who seemed very interested in our group. He took little notice of anything except us. Alone, apart, tailored suit, little smirk...made and held eye contact with me. He knows."

"Another Scion, perhaps? On the other team?" Alex mused. "So they know who we are, but not the other way around. Damn. I hate working blind. It'd be nice to have a break for our side."

"Maybe," Evie answers quietly. "It seems like the most likely answer. Tell you what, let's all meet somewhere more private later, and we can all brainstorm. I don't know what Lya and Hitoshi have learned. Maybe they have some more information that could shed some light on things."

"The lights never go out on the Strip," Alex smiles. "I'll hit the tables for a bit, but probably end up in the Billiard Room. I used to do that in Law School, it helped me focus."

"Ah! Billiards...that's mine and Saul's preferred after work relaxation. Well, on those rare days when we actually have free time at the same time. It's not like it was when we were teenagers and could doink around whenever we wanted," Evie chuckles. "I may hit you up for a game, later."

"A round of pool would be fun," Alex nodded.

Despite a friendly table and a charming dealer, the Blackjack tables held only limited appeal. The buzz of activity, slots chiming as someone hit a jackpot, shouts of victory ... none of the energy transferred to Alex. Instead, the press of the crowd made him feel edgy, not only because he was scanning the crowd for threats, but because the casino floor was packed with innocent bystanders. He rather sympathized with 'Wild Bill' Hickok, who had a marked distaste for leaving his back to a door. (And, who, because he'd really wanted in on one game, did so anyway ... and got shot in the back while holding Aces and Eights.)

After an hour of mediocre gameplay - he was ahead by less than $40 - Alex decided a drink was in order. Then, perhaps, some pool - in the hopes that a favorite pastime would take some of the edge off of his jangled nerves. He hadn't felt this twitchy since being in an active combat zone.

" Konbawa, " the bartender smiled. "What may I get for you?"

"Scotch. A double of Macallan 25, if you have it, please," Alex said, sliding some bills across the bar.

"Here you go, Sir," said Mishii. "A double of Macallan 25."

Alex leaned against the bar, fighting the urge to watch the door and scan the crowd ...

Alex tossed the Scotch down, ordered another. The bartender had seen plenty of gamblers come off the floor for a drink to take the edge off their losses, so a man who'd survived an attempted drive-by was certainly entitled.

The billiard room, bearing the moniker The Corner Pocket, was an upscale pool hall, more of a club atmosphere than a 'T-which-rhymes-with-P-and-that-stands-for-Pool' setting. Players had access to a full bar and an assortment of finger foods suited to playing - nothing with messy sauces or coatings that would get on the tables or cues.

Alex told the hostess that he'd be here for a while. He was prepared to spend time looking for a reasonably straight cue, found that the Pocket took care that its cues weren't warped or bent from people using them as leaning posts and walking sticks.

He set a rack of 9-Ball and began his game.

Alex was several games in when his cell phone rang. Vibrated, actually, as he habitually had the ringer off so as not to run afoul of courtroom etiquette. To Alex's dismay, the faceplate now had a crack spidering down from one corner.

He recognized the number; it was Christopher Clemens, the District Attorney.

"North."

"Alex! Glad to hear you're all right," Clemens said.

"A bit sore, but I'll take that over a sucking chest wound any day."

"I'm sure I don't need to sell you on an anti-gang initiative, but that's in the pipe," Clemens said. "If you're available tomorrow, let's have lunch."

"Saturday?"

"It's business, but I don't want it to be business," Clemens said. "Saturday lets it be less formal, and neither one of us will be dashing off to court or fielding a phone call from the Mayor."

Alex had an inkling as to what this was about, but didn't want to slam the door on the DA.

"Okay, lunch. Where and when?"

"Country Club. Noonish. Just give them my name."

"See you then, Chris."

Eventually, Evie decides that nothing more is going to happen and starts making her way to the pool room. She realizes that she is bone-tired. Between all the running around and investigating earlier and the excitement this evening, she's been going pretty much non-stop and it's starting to catch up with her. 

She enters the room and spots Alex at one of the tables, already in the midst of a game. Wandering over to his table, she finds a seat against a wall and flops into it. She lets her head fall back and rest against the hard wall for a moment and the temptation to close her eyes and sleep is strong. Evie sits back up, rubs her face and shucks out of her bulletproof vest, setting it in a seat beside her.

"Oh gawd, that feels better," she sighs, delighted to be out of the hot gear. "I know that I am sweaty and unpresentable under it but...screw that."

She grins and gestures towards the table, "How's the game going?"

"I think I'm winning," Alex smiles. He lines up a rail shot. His cue taps the cue ball just so, and the 4-Ball rolls neatly into a corner pocket, while the cue ball stops short of following it in for a scratch. Still, it doesn't leave him with the best angle on the 5-Ball. "At the very least, I'm not losing."

"Can I buy you something to drink? Soda, mineral water, if you're still on duty." 

Evies, smiling, waves off the offer of a drink, "Nah. I just finished a coke. I'm fine. Thanks, though."

She stands and looks down at the table, "Looks like you are doing pretty well! But, this is coming from me. I always lose at pool. Love the game, but I stink at it so....take my word for what it's worth."

Evie grins and then starts to laugh quietly, "One time, I accidentally started a brawl. I was off-duty, Ricky (that's one of my brothers) and I were playing, and there was this group of people in the bar who didn't know me."

"Now, the regulars...they know my 'talent' with a pool cue, so any of them would've laughed off what happened...."

She shakes her head and continues, "Anyway, I'm getting off track. So, I'm leaned over the table and I have everything all lined up. I pull back...smack the ball.....and BOINK! I hit it at just the right angle to pop it off the table and right into the back of some guy's head."

"This guy is big. He's drunk. And, as it turns out, he's an angry drunk. He does not like being beaned by a cue ball and immediately takes it up with me."

"I, of course, am trying my damnedest to make peace with this guy. I don't want trouble! I apologize, offer to buy him a beer but he has threatened me in front of my brother. Ricky knows that I'm a cop and I knows I know hand-to-hand but...he's my brother and he's got a temper." 

"Oi, but that was a night!" the detective laughs again. "I managed to break it up and the owner was happy to have everything settled without legal recourse."

"Back in JAG, the pool table was an informal conference location. You'd give opposing counsel a heads-up on discovery or pending motions, try to bet them off the table," Alex said, sinking the 5-Ball and moving to the 7. "NYC, it was the basketball court down at the gym. Same idea."

"Trick is, you're not always trying to power through things," he says, nodding towards the table. "Rail shots, for example, are all about hitting it square and a bit easy."

He makes his shot, the cue ball tapping the 7-Ball for an easy pocket.

"Come on, I'll set up a rack and we can have a game."

Evie watches as Alex sets up the game, glad to have a touch of normalcy after the past few days. She has a feeling that, from here on out, she'll have to grasp these moments with both hands and hold on tightly because they won't last long.

Once the game starts, she falls into her old habits of playing very, very badly. She's simply terrible at determining angles and how much force is necessary to make the cue ball do whatever it is that she wants it to do. Shots routinely fall short or go shooting across the table like big, colorful bullets. All the while, though, she laughs at herself. Her lack of skill doesn't bother her in the least and she enjoys the game for what it is: a game.

As they play, Evie considers something to chat about. Her first inclination is to ask Alex what brought him to the military and then law, but she quickly realizes that would be a stupid thing to ask. Just as detective work is part of her very nature due to her parentage, so too is war and law to Alex.

Instead, she starts with the little things, "So, are you originally from around here?"

"No. Grew up in Adelphi, a little suburb in Maryland. Dad," Alex pauses briefly, so you know he's talking about his mortal parent, "was a contractor working at Fort Detrick. Joining the Army was a way to afford law school, though I sure as hell didn't expect getting assigned to a war zone as a JAG officer."

He watches you handle several shots. "Want some tips? You can hustle Saul next time, he won't know what hit him."

"Absolutely! Anything I can do to annoy him makes my life just a little bit more fun," she laughs and it is clear in her tone that this is not a mean-spirited statement. Instead, it's just her picking on an old friend.

"First, you're rushing your shots just a bit. Unless you're playing on a shot clock, you have all the time in the world," Alex says. "So, tell me how you'd handle the 3-Ball on this next shot."

Evie walks around the table, looking at the three ball. Unfortunately, it's nestled up next to some other balls and she's not quite sure how to get it into a pocket from here. 

"I think I'd just hit the group and see if I can break them apart. I guess that I could maybe get it into that corner pocket over there, but it looks like there's too much going on with obstacles in my path," she says thoughtfully.

 

Even as you consider your shot, you realize your assessment is colored by prior experience. You could hit the 3-Ball and tuck it into a corner pocket; you just have no idea how to make it happen.

"This is where brute force can work against you," Alex coaches. "You want to hit the 3-Ball, but instead of knocking the balls hither and yon, let the table do the work for you. Aim straight at the cue ball ... that's it ... now take a half-step to your left ... and hit the cue ball firmly, but not too hard."

You do, and it's a sensation similar to when you were examining Thomas Cardinelli's body, an instinctive 'read' of the situation, as if you were judging the direction of a shot. The cue stick slides forward, and there's a soft clickof balls against one another.

The 3-Ball stops right on the edge of the pocket and refuses to drop.

"Good. Very, very close. You'll get better at judging how much force to use. If you'd sunk it, the cue ball would have bounced off this rail, and broken up that cluster of balls you were worried about."

Alex takes a moment, sinks the 3-Ball, then the 4-Ball. He falls short on sinking the 5.

"I got a call from the District Attorney earlier. Says he wants to talk to me. Rumor mill says it's a job offer, so I'd be moving to the Hall of Justice."

The detective gives a soft, almost inaudible gasp of surprise as her powers kick in during play. Her eyes widen and a wicked grin spreads across her face. Eyes twinkling with mischief, she stands up straight and says to Alex, "My powers kicked in on that shot! I could see the layout...the same as I do in crime scenes. Maybe if this whole detective thing ever falls through, with practice, I could become a professional pool shark!"

After a moment of faux contemplation, though, she grins, "Nah. I don't think dad would approve."

She leans back against the wall, her pool cue propped against her shoulder. When Alex mentions the possible job offer, she says, "So, do you think you'll accept the offer, if that is what is happening? What would that mean for you?"

"Interesting," Alex says. "Dad didn't tell me much. Gave me a couple of presents, told me to keep doing what I was doing, galloped off to some other battlefield. A lot of it has been trial and error, like learning I can go several days without sleep. Or that asking the right question can give me an absolute sense of guilt or innocence, which is what drove the two big cases I've been involved with."

"And then the more recent events. Someone's pointing their attack dogs at me, but I've got no clue how it ties into anything else. I don't think I've upset some godly plan with any case I've handled."

"As for the job offer, I'm inclined to say no, just because justice comes first in my book, and this sounds like politics. Chris Clemens is up for re-election in November, and his term hasn't been all that great."

"Honestly, I don't think it has anything to do with you, personally," Evie muses. "Thomas was a son of Tyr, too, and he was made an example. I think that whoever is doing this is...well....tweaking Tyr's nose. I have no proof of this at all, but my gut feeling is that any child of Tyr would be a target."

As she concentrates upon the mystery before her, all previous mirth disappears. Her brow furrows and her expression is once again serious, "But, I don't know why anyone in their right mind would do that. If you are really planning on trying to bring about Ragnarok, I would think that you wouldn't want to draw attention to yourself. You'd want it to happen as quietly as possible..."

"Unless....unless...." she chews her bottom lip, ...."Could this all be a distraction, a decoy? Something meant to make us look in the wrong direction?" 

"Or move in the wrong direction," Alex nods. "We respond to a threat that's real enough, but it's not the main push. It's a feint. Trick is figuring out what's what. So, if the Lobos aren't the real threat, someone's pulling their strings, giving them a nudge.

"Humans are bad at judging risk. Heck, that's the whole point of a casino. That's Roget's story - a relative nobody, and then, wham, a big casino win and he becomes somebody.

"He might not even have been a Scion, because he kicked th-"

Alex breaks off in mid-sentence. "Shit. I should have twigged to that. I'll have to look it up. Roget dies, someone inherits. Except, if he's a Scion, he could have faked his death and left his money to himself, under another name. We don't age like most people, at least that's the theory."

"Huh! I didn't know that. That does change things a bit if he was a scion, doesn't it," she ponders. "Just out of curiosity, do you have any guesses about who's kid Roget might've been? I've been doing the Cliff Notes of mythology thing for the past couple of days, but it's a lot of information to absorb in a short amount of time."

"I don't know if that information would be entirely relevant, but we can't ignore anything, at this point."

 

"I don't know that he was or wasn't," Alex says. "But the building that bears his name had the body of my half-brother hidden beneath it. Can't be a complete coincidence.

"Being filthy rich isn't much to go on, but Roget did have political aspirations at one time. Bankrolled other candidates, other development across the state. He could be anyone's kid."

"Well, I do have a list of people to look into, now. Tomorrow, I'll start doing some digging and see what I can find out about them," Evie nods in agreement of Alex's assessment. 

"I'll definitely have to look into who Roget bankrolled and supported. That might be important. He may not have had the power to move things directly....or he had the power but didn't desire to do things himself...so he paid others to do it for him."

"Right now, he's my main concern. Well, no....my real main concern is that figure I saw tonight, but I've got jack crap to go on about him, at the moment," she pokes half-heartedly at the table with her cue, fidgeting as she thinks.

"One mayor, two county supervisors, a member of the school board, two sheriffs, and - surprisingly - a supporter of a local food bank and homeless shelter," Alex said. "I can e-mail you that stuff. I can't see any real pattern to it, at least nothing major."

Evie continues to tap the end of her cue on the table, "Hmm...yeah, there's certainly no immediate connection except...." 

She pauses, "The sheriffs. I'd be interested in finding out who they were. Thomas was an officer. I wonder if Roget got to him from the inside. But, that would depend on the timing. I don't know if he was throwing support their way before or after Thomas' death."

Alex glances off to one side as he consults his memory. "The sheriffs were about the same time, but I'm pretty sure they were after Thomas got killed. Yeah, I could see that. They do a favor, maybe not even realizing it got a cop killed, they get a promotion, and Roget gets an endorsement for his campaign."

"Not sure how we could prove any of that, fifty years after the fact," Alex says. "Oh, and before I forget, there's a news photographer who saw the bullet, he's promised to keep his mouth shut. Good kid, though. Former combat camera."

The clerk at the front counter fields a phone call. A moment later, he's taken the rest of the staff aside for a huddled conversation. There are nods of assent, but neither Evie or Alex have any notion of what the 'pep talk' involved.

Until two security types - black suits, close-cropped hair, earpieces, and a familiar bulge under their armpits - take up station near the front.

Something's wrong.

Evie exchanges glances with Alex and drops her cue upon the table. Any more talk of theories will have to wait. 

The detective moves to the chair where she deposited her vest, picks it up and shrugs back into it with the ease that comes from years of wearing one of the blasted things. As she moves towards one of security, she straps it down.

"What's going on?" she asks the nearest security guard that she reaches.

"Rowdy crowd at the concert," the security guard says. "People we have inside say someone lit off some fireworks - smoke bombs, firecrackers - and there's some fighting, but we're holding back right now, don't want to go all Five-O on the crowd. At least, not yet."

"Understood," she says. "I'm going to go take a peek, but I'll not rile anyone up. Going to stick to the back and watch until I know what's what."

She gives a smile and nod to the security guard before turning to move towards the concert hall.

"Mind if I tag along?" Alex says. "My antennae are twitching, you know?"

"Absolutely!" she replies. In a lower tone so that the security guards can't overhear, she adds, "We need to stick together. I don't like the idea of any of us being alone, at this point."


	9. The Show Must Go On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big concert, unexpected guests, and our villain makes his entrance!

The lights dimmed, blue and red spots lancing through the crowd. A kicker light snaps on, illuminating Phoebe as her fingers dance across the fret board, establishing the bass line. Klepto rides her cymbals to create the charged-air feeling before a lightning strike, adds a beat on the bass drum to counterpoint Phoebe's bass. 

  
   Toxic and Orithia's guitars join in, and the fun begins. The kicker lights fade to an angled backlight before Lya steps out of the shadows and is highlighted as she begins to sing.  
  
   "I'm Lya, and these are the Furies!" she calls out as the first song ends. There's barely a beat before more notes trill from Toxic's guitar, and the set continues ...  
  
   Hitoshi is watching from a riser to one side. The crowd is already amped off the music, and the switchover between the Furies and the Nekromantix, which Kim and Lya had collaborated on during their sound check / jam session, would peg the meters.  
 

 It isn't until his second scan of the crowd that he realizes Mika Hanamura is standing off to his right. Gone is the formal mien of the executive-assistant-with-an-MBA-from-Stanford. She is wearing black jeans and motorcycle boots. A leather jacket with studded epaulets has seen better days - there are worn patches and even a few splits/scores in the leather, perhaps from laying down a bike. Her hair is coiled in a tight braid, and she is wearing glasses with high-contrast lenses.

   It is a delicious irony, you realize. The rule-bound Japanese businessman driving his daughter to rebel. Mika could easily pass as the girlfriend of a  _boryokudan_  , a gangster. And, if she had those kind of sympathies/allegiances, she might find working with you somewhat challenging.

 

The left side of Hitoshi's mouth quirks up into a crooked smile as he raises an eyebrow and catches Mika's eye. With a slight nod he signals his approval at her manner of dress. Moving along the wall he slides in her direction as Lya belts out another great number.  
  
"Miss. Hanamura, If I didn't know any better, I would think you were a biker gal, and not am executive Assistant. Definitely a change from earlier today" He says during a lull in the music. His gaze flicks up and scans the crowd for trouble again.

 

Lya takes a moment to catch her breath and take a swig out of her flask as Toxic blazes away at a guitar solo. She grins to the audience as she scans the audience, secretly looking for anyone who looks like an odd one out in the crowd.  
  
"I don't think you guys are loud enough," she yells out as she grabs the microphone and leans out over the stage. "Let's remind everyone what it's like in Vegas, baby!"

    "Growing up with a strict father, it was necessary to become something of a chameleon," Mika says. She is aware of you scanning the crowd, but says nothing.

  
    There's a thunderous response from the crowd, local fans turning their outburst into an a capella chanting that becomes part of the next number's bass line. Never mind that the vocalization of 'euai' is a rough equivalent of a Greek exclamation, a cry of joy and celebration, so any performance of this song became a tribute to Dionysus.  
  
    It would have been less conspicuous if the gang members hadn't been living up to their name and travelling in a pack. As it was, they stood out, and badly so. They weren't like the rest of the crowd, caught up in the infectious feel of the song and the chant, but ... skulking.

  
   Hands in pockets, furtive movements, but nothing that could immediately be called out as problematic...  
   

Lya turns back to the band and catches the eye of Toxic and Orithia before gesturing that they join up around her as she moves to the front of the stage. She gestures with her head toward the crowd where she saw the Lobos and gets quick nods from the both of them in return.  
  
When the music hits the driving drum beat Lya grabs her microphone and yells out "Let's hear you howl!" before she points her microphone out into the crowd toward the Lobos as best as she can. Klepto begins a thumping beat with the bass drums as Orithia and Toxic surge forward with their guitars on the beat in the same direction.   
  
_Come on, Hitoshi... tell me you see them!_

Hitoshi saw then moments earlier. He'd had recognized one of the members from the Diner.   
  
"Great, just what we need right now, and inside of all things." He mutters under his breath.   
  
His eyes lock with Lya's, and he nods, signaling that he's seen them. Then he shakes his head telling her to do nothing yet. He wanted to see what they did first. However, his gaze moves over the crowd, counting gang members and likely gang members, and he moves to position himself better in case they try and rush the stage. Lukily, he also saw in the pit quite a few regular fans of The Furies, and he knew that Should the Lobos try anything, it would be just him putting proverbial boot to ass.

 

   Only an idiot would look to start something in a room filled with edgy fans riding the adrenalin surge of music built on challenging conventions. But, then, it had already been established that the Wolf Pack weren't a bunch of rocket scientists.  
  
   Hands dip into pockets, then back out. Innocuous, except for the billows of acrid smoke that rise from the floor an instant later. At first, the crowd does not react, perhaps thinking it's part of the staging.

  
   And then a string of firecrackers goes off, flashes of light in relative darkness, loud bangs.  
  
   Someone yells, "GUN! He's got a gun!"

  
   And all hell breaks loose.

  
   The crowd surges as the mosh pit spills outward, people pushing and shoving to escape a threat that likely doesn't exist. A fire alarm is pulled, adding the ear-piercing warble and strobe to the chaos.  
     
   Hitoshi sees the Furies close ranks around Lya, something they'd have done even if it was a fan tripping out on a bad cap of Molly. But, again, any attackers would have to know it was SOP for any band - get off the stage and into a secure location.

  
   Had he missed someone slipping into the back to set up an ambush?

  
   Not that it would matter, unless it was a show of overwhelming force, and even then, they'd be leaving with pieces missing. Calling the quartet of Amazons, 'The Furies' was entirely apt. 

 "Everybody stay calm, it's just some assholes with firecrackers trying to ruin the party," Lya calls out over the speakers to the crowd as the Furies gather around her protectively.  

  
"We need to get you off stage, Lya," Klepto says worriedly as she scans the crowd.  
  
"I don't know about all of you," Lya continues to yell out to the audience over the alarms, "But a few firecrackers aren't going to stop me from having a good time and showing the world that we're here to stay... are they going to stop you? I say we turn that fucking alarm off and turn up the speakers!"  
  
"Are you sure?" Phoebe asks.  
  
"Look, this is going to get way out of control if we don't get them focused," Lya whispers as she covers up her microphone. "Hitoshi and the rest of the security are out there handling those Lobo assholes... our job is to make sure everyone else comes out of this alive and having a good time."  
  
Just to be safe, Lya grips her staff and mutters another incantation "Sicut oculus Deus impetus prohibere iniuriam (God protect me from harm like the eye of the storm) that was a gift from her father as Klepto starts on the drums and they break into a rousing cover of Twisted Sister's "We're Not Going to Take It."

     "EUAI! WE'RE NOT GONNA TAKE IT!" thunder some of your more devoted fans.

  
    You're not sure who starts it, but that's not entirely odd for a mosh pit brawl. Now, instead of a panic, you have a fight with spectators. You're pretty sure you see at least one of the Wolf Pack go down under a studded-glove punch.

  
    That's gonna leave a mark.

  
    Someone heaves a chair towards the stage; it flies through the space Lya had been standing a moment before.  
  
    "Konbawa," Mika says, stepping in front of another Pack member. "My employer will want to speak to you."

  
    "Get the fuck out of my way, Jap bitch," the gang member snarls. He pulls a switchblade and flicks it open. "Or I'll cut you."

  
    "No, you won't," Mika says. Her own hand comes up; there is something in her fist, perhaps a canister of pepper spray.

  
   "That's all you got? Too bad."

  
   "For you," says Mika. She sidesteps the knife thrust, and brings a short, black bar across the back of the gang member's wrist. By reflex, he jerks his arm back and grimaces in pain.

  
   "Drop the knife, please," Mika says quietly.

  
   "Fuck you! Lemmego!" the gang member yells. Mika moves her hand ever so slightly, and he begins to sink to his knees, his face contorting.

  
   "Drop the knife."

  
   "Aaaaaah!"

  
   The knife clatters to the floor. Mika's kubotan is moving in an instant, a quick jab to the side of the man's neck, and he slumps to the floor ...

 

Hitoshi Sighs. Some people just didn't know how to recognize their betters... or they were too stupid to care. Inside he was impressed with Mika's actions. They'd have a talk about that later. For the rest of the song he watches her work, and finally the song stops. He shrugs out of his jacket, hanging it over a spare mic stand next to the stage, and rolls up his sleeves   
  
He tilts his head to the left .  **Crack**    
  
He tilts his head to the right  **Crack**  
  
Slowly he walks towards the gangers. The Fans of the Furies that have seen him at work quickly get out of his way, and soon a large circle is cleared on the floor. Him and Mika on one side, The gangers on the other.  
  
Someone in the crow shouts "Hitoshi's gonna kick their Asses!"  
  
He holds up a hand and the person falls silent. "I'm going to give you dumbasses a chance to leave... One chance. Conisdering you have started shit in my Casino, I'm being rather Generous. You can take it, or end up like the Black Talons, and unable to walk ever again. Possibly worse depending on how much my mood changes. I honestly don't give one fuck which one you pick, but make it quick, I got karaoke later."   
  
All the gangs had heard about the Black Talons, and what Hitoshi had done to them that night for trying to have their way with Lya.  
  
He cracks his knuckles and waits.   
  
"Fuck you Esse!" One ganger screans and charges Hitoshi with a knife. Hitohshi's right leg snaps out like lightning, catching the man in the stomach doubling him over. Again it snaps out catching the ganger on the chin, breaking his jaw and knocking him out. He hits the floor like a limp noodle.  
  
"Fine, have it your way... Your Funeral." Hitoshi says quietly. There s scary light in his eyes, and a smirk on his lips.

    A lobbed bottle wings past Lya. So does a fan being flung across the lip of the stage as part of a body surfing wave.

  
   Meanwhile, there seems to be no shortage of gang members. The one taking a nap is quickly replaced by another. The newcomer has a slightly larger frame and well-developed muscles show beneath his shirt. And there's a strange look-and-feel about him, something animalistic and primal. His brow is furrowed, his eyes slightly rolled upward, his facial muscles twitching as if he's a berserker on a too-tight leash.  
     
       _Look out the window_  
       _Lookout below_  
       _Back away from the glass_  
       _There she blows_  
       _The city’s been leveled_  
       _Hills are in flames_  
       _Streets cracked open_  
       _And they’re pushin’ up clay_  
  
   It wasn't on the set-list, but another cover, this one of the Wallflowers'  _Everybody Out of the Water_  sets the tone for another beat-down ...

 Hitoshi raises an eyebrow. Something wasn't right about this guy, but he couldn't place his finger on what. 

 _"hmm, built large like a train. Don't want to get hit, but he's probably slow. Lets see what happens when I get him angry,"_   he thinks.  
  
The man throws a punch and Hitoshi takes a step backwards.    
  
"Thats it? I saw that coming a mile away. Man, you telegraphed that so well I think the New York Times has it down."

 

   Still, the offered punch isn't the untrained flailing about you've seen from others. There's a bit of MMA styling to the man's stance and presentation. He closes again and begins to circle, working the space better than the first guy.  
  
   " _El Maestro_ has ordered your death," he says in a monotone. He throws another punch, and you dance aside once more, but even with the advantage of being a Scion, you know any hit from this guy will hurt.

    Outside, there are several audience members milling about, coughing or wiping at their eyes. A hint of smoke lingers in the air, but it isn't accompanied by the smells one would associate with something burning.

  
   "It's just the opener," one concert-goer says. "It's too bad, they're good, I hope they have stuff out there. I'll go back in if things settle down, not missing a chance to see the Nekromantix."

  
   "Stupid fuckers with smoke bombs," another fan bitches. "Some assholes did that at a concert in Seattle, once. Gonna make 'em eat one if I find out who it was."

 Hitoshi grins "Finally a challenge." He snaps a kick towards the man's head but it's a feint, and he quickly turns it into a jump spin kick driving his foot deep into the man's stomach and using the kick to throw himself backwards into a flip. He lands on the balks of his feet, his hands up and ready. "Lya, sing me a song I can dance to, it seems I have a partner."

 Lya spies Hitoshi and the brutish gang member circling each other in the crowd as they finish their song. She turns to the band and says with a grin into her microphone, "Are you ready, Toxic?"

  
"Uh huh," she moans into the microphone as Klepto begins thumping out a beat on the drums.  
  
"Orithia?"  
  
"Yeaaah," she replies with a knowing grin.  
  
"Phoebe?"  
  
"Okay..."   
  
"Well all right girls..." she leans backwards as she belts out into the microphone "So let's GOOOOOO!"

   The gang member goes down as Hitoshi launches his kick-flip off of him. He staggers, but seems otherwise unfazed, and resumes stalking Hitoshi. As the two men circle, the gang member seizes one of the stanchions marking off the first row of tables.

  
    The stanchion is a heavy metal-and-chrome affair, its base weighted with a lead plate, but the man wrenches it around like it's a toy, upending it as if he's going to use it to smash Hitoshi's head in.  
  
    Hitoshi responds to the move by shrugging out of his shirt, revealing a muscled physique, his torso covered by an intricate tableau of tattoo work, motifs from Japanese legend and his own personal trials.

 

 He dangles the shirt from one hand, so it can be brought into play to lash around the stanchion's end.  
   

 _TOSH! TOSH! TOSH! TOSH!_ some of the regular fans begin to chant.

  
    "Kick his ass!" someone else yells, and the crowd picks it up as a chant.  
  
    It was post time, Hitoshi knew. The first few exchanges in a fight were a chance to evaluate your opponent. But then you had to act decisively, instead of giving them a chance to stave your head in with a metal pole ...

And this is the scene that Evie and Alex walk into. Evie's eyebrows creep up her forehead as she sees one gang member brandishing a stanchion as though it was nothing more than a billy club. Still, she does not move to interfere....yet. It seems that Hitoshi has this under control and she's afraid that any police involvement could truly set things off and make it much worse than it is at the moment.  
  
Instead, she starts scanning the crowd, looking for any stragglers that might decide to jump in and help a fellow out. Also, she's keeping her eyes peeled for the mysterious man she had seen outside...or anyone else unusual, for that matter. (Well, besides Hulk, over there....) 

 

When the pole came out things went from bad to worse, Hitoshi knew. That man with that stanchion could cause some serious deadly harm to anyone around him. As if to prove a point the ganger swings the pole around and hits one of his fellow gangers, knocking the man to the ground. Hitoshi winces.   
  
"Come on big guy. It's me you want!" Hitoshi yells at the big ape who seemed to be getting dumber by the second.  
  
Th ganger brings the stanchion up and hammers it down right on the spot where Hitoshi was seconds before. Hitoshi wraps his shirt around it and tries to jerk it out of the mans grasp, but the guerrilla was just too strong, and His shirt rips from his grasp with a loud tear.   
  
"Hitoshi!" Toxic's shout makes him look over.  
  
She's Holding his walking stick. He nods and she chucks it before going back to playing. The stick sails through the air between them. Judging its arc, Hitoshi holds up his hand and his grasp closes about the hilt end.   
  
The Giant of a ganger swings stanchion around again, aiming for Hitoshi's head only to have it shopped with a jarring clang. Where the stick used to be was now a Japanese Katana of Pure impeccable quality.  
  
Hitoshi spins, bringing the blade around and down. Any normal Sword would break against the heavy chrome stanchion, but this was Honsho Masamune, the most master crafted sword to ever come out of Japan, and a Legend to boot. It had seen many wars, and something like a Chrome stanchion was not goings to stop it.  
  
With barely a tug, the blade slices the Stanchion cleanly in two. Hitoshi Spins out from inside the man's reach as he tries to swing to two piece at him. Bringing the blade around Hitoshi spins it through his grip and the next thing removed is the Gangers right wrist.

 

   Apart from an animal-like roar of pain, the gang member doesn't seem to be impeded by the loss of his hand. Casting aside the pole end he'd been clutching in his left hand, he jams the stump of his right beneath his left armpit, lowers his head, and charges at Hitoshi, bellowing loudly ...

 

Hitoshi sighs. Anyone looking at him can see the sad look of determined resignation on his face.   
  
He charges towards the man, and then at the last moment, falls to his knees sliding between the man’s legs on the blood slicked floor. As he passes between them he slices the back of the man's left leg with his sword, severing the man’s tendons. He rises to his feet and turns around.  
  
"Stay down, I don't wish to kill you."

 

   Arms already wrapped about himself, the gang member topples gracelessly to the floor.

  
   A fan darts out of the crowd, edges close to the prone figure and shouts, "TEN!"

  
   Drumroll.

  
   "NINE!" someone else shouts. Klepto does another drumroll, a wicked smile coming to her face.

  
   The count gains speed and volume as more of the audience join in. Finally, a half-dozen or so fans are gathered in a semicircle around the man's feet.

  
   "THREE! TWO! ONE!"

  
   A rimshot and a clash of cymbals, along with a wry guitar riff of  _Three Blind Mice_.

While everyone is looking at the downed ganger Hitoshi quickly wipes the Blood off Honjo Masamune and taps its tip on the floor. Mow he's leaning on a simple wooden walking stick again. Quickly he heads towards the stage.  
  
"Time for all of us to go. I don't think the gang will be a problem anymore, but the police might."

 

"Alright everybody we're the Furies and that's our show for tonight! If you could give us 10 to let them get this smoke clear and the mess cleaned up Necromantix is going to continue to rock the roof off! Eua! Eua!" Lya yells out over the speakers as the Furies gather around her and they raise their fists in unison.  
  
"You guys were great," Lya says to the others as they exit the back of the stage and let the roadies do their work. "You sure you all weren't Muses before you were Amazons?"  
  
"What we do may be an art..." starts Klepto.  
  
"But I don't think the Muses liked our color palette and choice of medium," Orithia finished with a chuckle. 

Evie frowns, arms crossed, as she waits to see how the casino security handles things. She'd rather not step on any toes, if possible.  
  
"Well, this isn't good," she mutters to Alex. "How much you want to bet that video footage of that fight is hitting YouTube as we speak?"  
  
Already, her mind is trying to figure out what to do about Hitoshi. She doesn't know who started this mess, but there is most likely direct evidence of assault with a deadly weapon happening, here. There are tons of witnesses. And, it is known that she is here. She can't ignore this....  
  
"Shit," she says, trying to think of a loophole to get her out of having everyone involved, including Hitoshi, hauled off.

 

   "I'm on a store security camera and probably a dozen cell phones from earlier getting shot at close range," Alex said. "People look for explanations. They see things that aren't there, ignore things that are. Hitoshi's skill as a martial artist is a matter of record. People are familiar with samurai swords. But the rest? It's Hollywood to them. Show a picture of a severed hand, and there'll be people calling it a fake right alongside people swearing it's real."  
  
   "I'm an officer of the law, you're an officer of the court," Evie said quietly. "We can't just ignore this or pretend it didn't happen."

  
   "I'm not saying that we should," Alex pointed out. "Process the crime scene, interview the crowd. Don't make any definitive statements. The crowd may turn out to be your allies - they'll start coming up with an explanation for everything."  
  
=====  
  
   Lya makes her way off-stage, across the wings and into the backstage spaces. Kim waves at her and gives her a reassuring thumbs-up.

  
   The band makes their way into their dressing room.  
  
   And someone is waiting for them.  
  
   "Good evening, Ms. Bach," says the gentleman seated on the couch. Lean of frame and face, tailored suit, smarmy grin. "We have some business to discuss. I've left my people outside, so if you'll dismiss your ... associates, we can keep this relatively pleasant."  
 

 "Don't do it, Lya," Toxic says. "Give the word, and I'll send this  _skiazo_ packing."  
 

  "Oh, and Hit-on-me, or whatever your name is. You're one of us, so you can stay. But stay over there, please. Glower all you want."

"Mister Lying Bastard, I presume?" Lya sneers as she grabs a beer and leans against a table. She nods to the Furies as she mouths "it's ok" and grips her staff tight with her other hand.   
  
"I think Hitoshi left plenty of pieces of 'your people' outside already. Hopefully they can behave around women or I'm sure they'll leave plenty more." She takes a long swig of her beer and then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. 

 

   "Oh, yes," Mr. Lying Bastard says. "The Furies do live up their name, don't they? Kiss, kiss, darlings. What I have to say isn't for the hired help. Or for second-hand reporting to Dionysus."

 

"So go on... let's hear the threat that's supposed to convince me not to tell him myself," Lya replies with a wave of her hand.

 

   "Threat? My dear Lya, I don't deal in threats," Liar Liar tells you. "Neither will I insult you with the tired line that I make 'promises.' Those kind of dramatics work when one is cowing humans. You and I are different."

  
   "A war is coming, Lya. You know it, I know it, even Hitoshi knows it. It's not about who wins or loses; it's inevitable. Fimbulwinter, Ragnarok, World's End. Oh, but it's the  _Titans_. It's a fight for humanity, free will, blah, blah, blah," he continues. "I don't know about you, but humans aren't as good at creating as they are destroying things. Even Vegas. A nice enough town, I suppose, but built upon catering to human's base urges. Greedy, carnal, venal urges."

 

"It's inevitable because that's  _life..._  that's what it  _does._  We constantly go through the cycles of creation and destruction because you can't have one without the other. If all you do is destroy, then eventually there's nothing left and no point. If all you do is create..." Lya finishes off her beer with a gulp, "then you lose appreciation for what you have and eventually you run out of room for all your stuff. But this is something we all know already... so get to the point."

 

    "Yes, exactly. Part of a cycle. Life and death. Order and chaos. War and peace," Lyman says, smiling. "Gods and Titans. Why pick the side that is destined to lose? That must lose? Accept it instead of fighting it."

 

 "But you're making it so  _interesting..._ " Lya sighs. "What I don't get is why set the Lobos on us in the first place when it only made us more interested in your actions?" She leans over and grabs another beer from the small fridge under the table. "I mean..." she twists off the cap and takes another drink, "Wouldn't it have made more sense to just leave us all alone and oblivious?"

_"Hit-on-me..."_  Hitoshi had heard it before. It was rather lame by comparison. He lights up a smoke and takes a breath. After a moment he stubs it out still half unfinished.  
  
"Look Fucktard, If you want to upset me, you are really going to need better insults than that. You ain't even close to what I used to get as a kid. And Lya right. My life was dull up till now. Things just got fun. Next thing you know we'll be having a chase down the strip with me and girls in a Corvette."  
  
He walks over to a fridge and cracks open a beer. After a second thought he tosses one onto the couch next to the man and hands one to Lya. As long as it was just conversation and verbal sparring, he wasn't going to be terribly rude.  
  
"Oh, and those guys of yours.. Kids. Stop using them. Those poser wannabees think they are tough? The only thing they are is stupid. It's going to get them killed, but then I bet you like them just smart enough to follow orders. So, what did you promise them? Money? Power? Eternal life?" 

 

"Diamonds for their girlfriends, apparently..." Lya nods and takes the beer from Hitoshi before sticking it in her pocket for later. "That is if they don't go insane and blow their own heads off first."

 

   "Yes. Well, Esteban was an unfortunate outcome. Jotunblut does that, sometimes," Lyman shrugs. "Hitoshi, when the time comes for us to be enemies - if that's what you choose, of course - I won't be wasting time with juvenile insults."

  
   He raises the beer. "Thank you for this. One of the benefits in dealing with a daughter of Dionysus, or coming from a pantheon where they drink mead like soda pop. Glorious stuff, when it's brewed right."

  
   "The Wolf Pack is useful in a number of ways, not the least of which is that they're deniable. Even the police will laugh at stories about gods and their earthly agents when they have gang members with prior records to hand. Amazons, Einjehar, whatever - we all have our disposable tools."  
  
   "And that is why we're having this chat. It would be a shame for you to be the pawns in this little game of gods and titans, swept off the board as an afterthought. Because that's how they see us. They tell you that you've earned a place, that you're worthy, when that's not really true. They weren't there when you almost got raped, Lya. They weren't there when you needed them that one night, Hitoshi. If you ask Alex, he'll tell you Tyr wasn't there when his chopper got shot down."

"Now we get to the meat of the problem..." Lya chuckles. "You've got Daddy issues." She finishes off her beer before setting it on the table behind her.

  
"Look... I didn't really know my mother much either,  and personally I'm pretty happy with that because she was a real bitch." she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her other beer. "But I get it... you're tired of acting out your role..." she takes a swig of her latest beer,"because you think you're  _special,"_ she finishes with a sneer while making quotes in the air with her hands.

    "I have the blood of a god in my veins," Lyman says. "Do neither of you see it? When the gods and titans are done beating each other senseless, we can be the ones to take up the reins of power. A golden age for man? A land flowing with milk and honey? All these things are possible. Choose whatever side you wish, as long as you understand there will be a point where your choice will be between being a mere minstrel and being a goddess."

  
   He looks Hitoshi up and down. "Or a Power Ranger. Whatever floats your boat."  
  
=====  
  
   The audience had been ushered back into the hall. A pair of security officers from the casino were recording quick video depositions, asking people to provide their names and a phone or email address, plus a quick description of what they saw.  
  
   "Where are the paramedics?!?!?!" shouted an officer, kneeling beside the fallen gang member.

  
   "Right here," came the answer as two paramedics wheeled in a stretcher. "Okay, severe trauma and blood loss. Need a compression bandage. Who's got the ... um ... hand?"

  
   "Here," said a casino security guard. "Baggie and ice from the bar."

  
   "Smart move. Tourniquet?"

  
   "My tie," said the police officer.

  
   "Vitals," said the paramedic, calling out numbers. "He's in shock. We'll transport to general, but he'll be going into surgery, stat."

  
   "We'll still want someone there to interview this guy."

  
   The gang member's eyes snapped open. They were glazed, but still charged with lambent fury. He looked at the paramedic, smiled.

  
   "Mein leben fur Fenris!"

  
   "Ruhe, krieger," she said softly.

  
   The man's eyes closed.  
   And then his body began to glow, forcing everyone to look away ...     
  
   "What the ...?" shouted the officer, reaching for his weapon. "Get back, get back!"

  
   The light faded. The body of the gang member was gone.

  
   "Huh? Where'd he go? Williams, you see him?" the officer said.

  
   "He's not over here!"

  
   A glance towards the stage. "He back there?"

  
   "No. Nothing here."

  
   "You saw it, right?" the officer asked the paramedic.

  
   "There was a flash of light, you shouted get back, and ... no patient," she said.

  
   "You're gonna love this," said the hotel security officer. He held up the bag that had held the severed hand. It, too, was gone. Nothing but a bag of ice remained, the melt not even tinged with a hint of red.

  
   "Jesus. Why me?" the officer asked. "How the hell do I write this up?"

  
   "Responded to report of disturbance, no victim?" suggested the other paramedic.

  
   "Where'd he go? He was right here, he didn't just disappear!"

  
   "Someone said there was a smoke bomb, maybe firecrackers earlier," said the casino security guard.

 

"Maybe some kind of flare? Guy probably had priors, doesn't want to get made. Plays possum, then lights a flare and slips out a door. Put out an APB or something."

  
   "I guess," said the officer.

  
   "We're done here, then," said the female paramedic. She and her partner began picking up their gear.  
  
   It's as the paramedics are leaving that Alex stops and stares at the young woman.

  
   "Holy shit," he says. "Hey! Wait!"

  
   The paramedic glances over her shoulder. "Are you injured, Sir?"

  
   "No, but ... I thought you were someone else," Alex said. "Sorry."

  
   "I get that a lot," she smiles.

  
   "I imagine you do," Alex says. "Again, sorry. There's no way you could be who I thought you were. It was years ago, and in another country."

  
   "It's still not your time, Son of Tyr," she said quietly.

  
   Alex eyes widened. "What did you say?"

  
   "I said, 'It's time for us to get out of here.' My partner and I," she said.

  
   "Will ... can I ... look, can we hook up later? Dinner or something?"

  
   "Is this the part where you scribble your number on a napkin?"

  
   Alex offers her his business card. "Call me. Really."

  
   "I can't promise anything," she says. She glances at the card. "Bye, Alex."

 

During this whole affair, Evie stays towards the back of the crowd, taking statements from onlookers and letting other officers actually handle the body. She breathes a sigh of relief when the other officers seem to pay her no mind. She's more than happy to let the paperwork for this particular incident fall upon someone else's shoulders.  
  
From where she stands, listening to the statement of an over-enthusiastic and slightly intoxicated young man, she overhears Alex's conversation. She mentally notes it, but says nothing to him. After all, it doesn't seem to be any of her business.  
  
Besides, it's hard to get away from this particular, young rocker.  
  
"Duuuude! Did you fukkin' see what happened? That was, like.....BWEEEEH!....," exclaims the young man, who is making the 'mind blown' gesture as he speaks.  
  
"No, sir, I didn't. That's why I need you to tell me what you saw," Evie patiently explains for about the fifth time.  
  
"Oh, yeah...dude...like, this huge guy, right? He like starts picking a fight with this little Asian guy. He's like picking up shit and trying to hit him and the Asian dude goes all Mortal Kombat on him and..."  
  
"Uh-huh," Evie tries her best to maintain an air of slight disbelief, just as would be appropriate in this situation.  
  
"No, no! You gotta listen to me, Fuzz. I am totally not making this shit up. There was like.....KWAH! and KZANG!...and then there was blood and a hand...Oh! go talk to the EMC dudes. I bet they have the hand. I bet it's all gnarly and bloody," the guy grins and nods his head. "Sweet."  
  
"Okay, then. I'll go talk to them. Thank you for your time, sir," Evie smiles politely and walks back over to where Alex stands.  
  
"So, what now? Think we should find Lya and Hitoshi?" she asks.

 

Hitoshi glowers at the man. "Jason David Frank and Austin Saint John have nothing on me. You aren't the only one here with the Blood of a God or Goddess in their veins, so I suggest you remember it. You are in my casino, and my home, and frankly, you and those you keep company with are not welcome, and if I have to get rid of you one by one, I will."  
  
He cracks his neck for emphasis.  
  
"Oh and on that subject, who do you call daddy? Fenerir perhaps. Would that make you a son of a Bitch? Or maybe it's Loki. I'm curious to know."

 

   "They're probably backstage," Alex nods. He glances towards the doors and the departing paramedics. "EMT's are leaving ... wait, they didn't have anyone on the stretcher ..."  
  
    An officer approaches Evie.

  
   "Sir, I think ... I think I fucked up," he says.

  
   "How's that?" Evie asks.

  
   "Sir, we had a suspect in custody, and ... he got away. He's gone," the officer tells you. "Threw a flare or something, everyone looked away, and he's gone."

 

   "So much for hospitality," Lyman says with a shrug. "Oh, nice to meet you cousin, by the way, I want to kill you and your friends. As I was telling the lovely Lya, here, the Wolf Pack are useful in that sense. Foot soldiers in a long war."

  
   Lyman stands and sets his beer aside.

  
   "My father is Loki. Please don't tell me my pseudonym had you stumped. And Fenris' pups are somewhere around here," he says with an airy wave. "Fortunately, they're housebroken. Just as vicious as their father, though. I'd think twice before picking a fight with them."  
  
   "A pleasure, dear Lya. Do consider what I've said." He moves closer to the door. "And, Hitoshi, I hope you are wise enough not to do something rash like attempting to turn me into sushi as I walk by, yes?"

 

Evie frowns and makes a soft hrrm, sound. However, she shakes her head and waves it off, "It looks like no one here was hurt (aside from the suspect) so....no real harm done."  
  
"Besides, he's missing a hand, right? He shouldn't be too hard to track down. That will need to be treated. We can check the hospitals and vets, visit some of the "unofficial medical staff" that we are aware of...," she shrugs.   
  
She claps the man on the shoulder, "Don't worry about it. Just put out an APB and we'll see what we can turn up."

 Hitoshi shakes his head.

  
"My Father is Hachiman, so you are no cousin of mine, however, considering you have not directly threatened myself or the Furies while in this room, and unlike you, I abide by certain codes of Honor. I'm done with fighting for the day, but if your wolves come around again before the sun has risen, I will make Sushi out of every one of them."  
  
He moves to the door and opens it. "Tell me one thing though, if you want to let the Gods and the Titans fight it out then make the dearth better, why are you even involved? Why not just sit back and let everything blow over?"

    The officer nods to Evie. "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

  
   "Evie. A word?" Alex says, indicating a corner with a nod of his head.

  
   Evie nods to show she heard, but continues to survey the crime scene and keep an ear out for further 'amazing stories.' It's several minutes before she approaches Alex.

  
   "What's up?"

  
   "You know they're not going to find him, right?"

  
   "Standard procedure. He'll turn up, or he won't," Evie says, her words giving nothing away. A raised eyebrow asks her question.

  
   "I'll explain more later, but it's like something I read in a fantasy novel, a mythical warrior that could be summoned forth to fight for its master."  
   "That's right up there with BWEEEEH!" Evie says, making the same mind-blown gesture as the one witness.  
  
   "Third cousins, twice removed, then," Lyman smiles. "I think you'll get away with tonight's performance, but even the police aren't so thick that they'll ignore a bunch of gang members turning up minus bits and pieces."  
   "As for the rest, it's like surfing," he says, miming being on a board. "Ride the wave, through the pipe and out as it all breaks apart behind you. Good night, Hitoshi Ryder. You have a busy day tomorrow; you should get your rest."

 

Evie glances around at the scene, taking note of everything that is going on. The paramedics have already left, casino security is cleaning up the scene and it looks like people are finally starting to disperse. Most of the officers who were called are also either taking care of talking to a few straggler witnesses or packing up and heading out to the next scene where they are needed.  
  
"I think it's safe for me to wander away, at this point," she says to Alex. "Let's go catch up with the others."

 "You know why the Gods come down to Earth and have us kids?" Lya asks as she walks up to him at the door. "Because they're sick and tired of being gods with all that responsibility and crap that comes with it. And you..."she points a finger into his chest as she holds her bottle of beer with the rest of her hand, "You want to start all that shit down here?" she gestures with both hands at her temples. "Blows my mind, man....blows my mind. Maybe you should think about if you really want all that shit, or if you're just angry that daddy didn't play enough ball with you as a kid."

  
"Good night, Lying Bastard... I've got better things to do then be your therapist."

    Lyman gives a polite bow. "I'll take that as a 'no,' then. Pity. The war will come regardless, and, now, perhaps sooner than you think. I bid you farewell, Lya."

   
   He pauses at the door. "When you're having your little denouement tomorrow, consider that we're both liars, Hitoshi. I'm just honest about it."

 Hitoshi smiles. "Go fuck yourself, and have a good night."

  
He slams the door in the man's face then goes as sits on the couch and sighs. After a moment he walks over to the coat rack and pulls a spare shirt and tie out of a garment bag and puts it on.   
  
"Did Phoebe tell you I was planning on taking her out to eat and Kareoke?" He asks softly as he messes with the tie.

 

"What she does in her free time is her own business, Hitoshi," Lya sighs as she closes the door. "I just hope for all our sakes he leaves us alone tonight and I don't have to interrupt." She finishes off her beer with a long gulp before throwing it across the room into a can. "I'm going to gather the rest of the girls and find the others so they know what went down." She grabs her cane and her backpack and slings it over her shoulder before heading out the door. "You two be careful."

 Hitoshi Sighs as Lya walks out the door then he follows.

  
"Lya wait... It was supposed to be just me and Pheobe, but after these events, I'd like to take you all out tonight. I have some news for all of you, and it may be good, it may be bad, but I want to tell you all over dinner. Pheobe and I will have to go out by ourselves another time."

 

     "I'm just honest about it," Lyman says. He ignores Hitoshi's abrasive farewell and steps into the hall. Whereupon he comes face to face with Evie and Alex.

  
    "Ah, the Detective and the Bullet Magnet," he smiles. "So, what  _does_  it take to kill you, North?"

  
    "And you are?"

  
    "You can call me Lyman. As you might have guessed, I'm on the 'other side,'" he says, making air quotes around the phrase. "You clearly take after your old man."

  
    "Ah. Well, let me tell you what he once told me," Alex said. "Just because we're related doesn't mean I won't beat the tar out of you."

  
    "You'll have to wait in line, I'm afraid. Hitoshi is just itching for the chance."

  
    "I'll bet."

  
    "Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I must be off," Lyman smiles. "Good night, Evie."

  
    With a light step, Lyman heads out the door.

 

   And the moment he does, the Furies emerge from two of the other rooms. Toxic has a compact crossbow to hand, while Orithia has a collapsible baton. Klepto has her drumsticks, and Phoebe is tucking a knife back into her sleeve.

  
   "So, that's the Son of Loki," Toxic says. "Slimy bastard. Phoebe, did he say anything important? You had your ear to the wall."

  
   "Lots of 'dear Lya' and smooth talk," Phoebe said. "Offered her a chance to side with the Titans."

  
   "Like  _that's_  going to happen," Orithia said. "Toxic, you should have shot him."

  
   "Wasn't a clear shot. Not that Alex couldn't take it, but he's had enough of getting shot at for one night, I imagine."

  
   "Um, yeah," Alex said. "I could do without an arrow in my chest."

  
   "That doesn't mean I won't shoot you if you're in the way," Toxic added.

  
   "Good to know."

 

"Hmmm," Evie eyes the man's back as he walks away, lost in thought as the Furies arrive. This does not stop her from hearing their news, though.  
  
"It's a shame he didn't stop to talk. I think I'd like to hear what he has to say," Evie muses.  
  
"Don't tell me that you're actually thinking about joining his side?!" Phoebe exclaims, a dangerous look passing over her (and the rest of the Furies') features.  
  
"No, no," Evie waves off their concern. "My loyalties lie here. However, there's something to be said for letting your enemy talk...and talk...and talk. Get them monologuing and you can learn things. Granted, I'm betting he'd try to feed me a pack of lies.....he pretty much admitted that as he was walking out the door....but that just means that I'd have to sort everything out, afterwards."  
  
The detective shrugs and smiles, "But, at least I'd have some more puzzle pieces to work with."

 

Hitoshi sighs. "Detective Cartwright, his type only gives out what he wants to give out, and nothing more. A Bond Villain he is not. However, that being said, I'm sure we will see more of him."   
  
He slings the now empty garment bag over one shoulder and closes the door behind him and Lya.   
  
"Phoebe, I still plan on going out, but due to the attack, I'm worried about Lya and the rest of you. So you and I shall have to go out ourselves some other time. Tonight I'd like to take everyone out to eat. On top of all this there's a few things I found out today that may change our lives possibly for the better."

 

   "The Westview comped my dinner earlier," Alex said. "But a drink and a light bite with some friends, I'd like that."

  
   He glances back at the theater.

  
   "Lyman, or whatever he calls himself, is being a smug bastard," Alex adds. "He made sure to point out that he knew our names, and that he knew my divine parentage."

  
   "Where are we going?"

 

"There's a place I know called the Rising Sun Lounge. It's an actual proper Sushi Restaurant that also has some interesting entertainment." Hitoshi replies.

 

   "Hitoshi, I used to be in the Army. You'd be surprised what soldiers get up to when they're on leave," Alex laughed. "There even used to be a place here in town, a BattleMech center or something like that, where you could 'pilot' a giant war machine."

 

Hitoshi shrugged and started walking towards the exit.  
  
"I hope you like to sing then. Tonight's Karaoke and a few other things."  
  
He nods to the security at the door then opens it and looks around. Seeing it was clear, he holds it open.  
  
"Well, whose going?"

 

   "Karaoke. Yeah, the boys did that, too," Alex said. "Saw some really bad acts, too. Might have even been me."

 

Evie rolls her eyes at Hitoshi's comment about Bond villains, "Oh, sure. I guess I'll just never ask any questions or listen to anything my enemy says from here on out. Obviously, I will never, ever glean anything of use from it because these guys never, ever fuck up. Ever. Never ever.."  
  
"I've totally been doing my job wrong for the last decade. Who knew?"  
  
She follows the others towards the door.

 

   "The nice thing about Bond Villains is that they like to brag about their amazing plan to take over the world," Alex said. "I think that's what we're seeing with Lyman. He'll want us to know all about it, understand it ... so he can do an I-Told-You-So dance in the end zone after scoring."

  
   "Personally? I think he just told us the stakes are going up."

 

"Actually Officer Cartwright, what I meant is he's going to be a tough nut for you to crack, and you will probably have to do more investigating than outright questioning. Even then I don't think much of anything will turn up until exactly when he wants it to, like a trail of breadcrumbs."   
  
Hitoshi replied over his shoulder. Then he turns around.   
  
"But, I have been wrong about things before."

 

  "Ah, but the important question is, 'Are they any good at karaoke?'" Alex joked. "Right now, it's all about pushing us out of our comfort zones. If we want to push back, that's something we'll have to talk about."

 

She snerks softly at Alex's statement, "I think karaoke is just about as far out of my comfort zone as it gets. And, if I sing, I'm pretty positive that Lya and the Furies' head will explode. Or they will try to put me out of my obvious misery."

  
"Nonetheless, you are still invited for dinner, Officer Cartwright. If you don't wish to sing after that, no one will make you." Hitoshi smiles.

 

"He actually talked quite a bit... made it pretty clear that he resents the fact that he didn't know his daddy and now he wants to take over the world so daddy and everyone else will have to pay attention." Lya adds as they walk out and she catches up with the others. "What I don't get is why get us involved? We wouldn't have had any idea if he hadn't showed himself. Ego, maybe?"

 

   "And maybe it's a momentum thing, you can't push against something without resistance, or ... I'm not making any sense, am I?" Alex says.

 

"Like the football player who runs farther when he gets to plow through people?" Suggests Lya. "It's the challenge that makes the doing worthwhile."

 

"Sort of. You can't fight or grapple with something you can't touch. It's how you judge your stance, your next move," Alex said. "So he's sizing us up, figuring out where he can hit us."

 

"He already tried to disrupt the concert... he's going to do whatever he can to bring us out into the open so we'll be too busy explaining our existence to the public to stop him. We should all be careful," Lya warns.

 

"If Loki is anything like Eris we're talking about some epic level button pushing."

 

"I'm sure we will figure out was to work in the public eye at some point, and then, well lets just say he will be the one needing to watch out." Hitoshi says grimly as he holds the door to his Mustang.   
  
"Who's riding with me to the Restaurant? I'll have to see about getting a car for the rest." 

 

"I have my own car. I'll follow you there," Evie says. 

 

"I've got to take the gear back in the van so I'll meet you guys at the restaurant," Lya replies.

 

   "If someone can drop me off at my office, I can get my car as well," says Alex.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a work in progress as our Scion campaign continues. I've been transposing all of our game notes into what is a hopefully cohesive story for everyone to enjoy. &_&


End file.
